


What tho in chains

by ArabellaFaith



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-27 15:03:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 31,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10027121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArabellaFaith/pseuds/ArabellaFaith
Summary: AU where Yuri Plasetsky is an orphan who ends up sold to a slum lord.  Otabek is a cop he'd been friends with as a child.  When they find each other again, they work to heal old wounds and have a second chance at romance.  VERY dark, graphic, and explicit.  Non-con, abuse, mentions of self harm, and sex.  Victuuri background.





	1. Darkness Dawns

**Author's Note:**

> They say a good writer chases their characters up a tree and throws rocks at them. Well, I chased Yuri up a tree, then set the damn thing on fire. Really, I just wanted to send him through hell so he could come out the other side. Don't take the warnings lightly, they are there for a reason.
> 
> Title is a reference to the the poem Unconquered and Unconquerable, by Lewis Latimer.

  
He'd had the most wonderful dream. Beka had been in it, and so had his grandpa and Yuuri Katsuki and even that idiot Victor. There had been ice skating, which was strange, because Yuri had never ice skated before, but in the dream he'd been talented at it. He'd been _amazing_. There had been competitions, and the kind of mushy romance crap that only happens in the movies, and he'd _won a gold medal_ and Beka had been so proud of him... The rest of it was starting to slip away already, but he clung onto that feeling. Standing on a podium the likes of which he would never even see in real life, being given a medal that probably cost more money than Yuri could ever dream of, and feeling like he'd just been crowned king of the world.

“Get up, brat.” The impatient voice, raspy from years of heavy smoking, intruded on Yuri's fantasy. Any chance he'd had of clinging to the last vestiges of sleep, and his dream, evaporated. With a muted sigh, he sat up. “You'll get a licking if Matron catches you sleeping here instead of in the dorm.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Yuri griped. He pulled his jacket tighter around himself and snuck back to the room where all the other boys were sleeping. Despite the cool morning, it was stiflingly hot in the crowded room. He'd been sleeping on the stoop to avoid the oppressive heat and the stale smell of unwashed bodies. Still, the old mechanic was right. If the matron caught him out of the dorm there would be hell to pay. The scars on his back were a constant reminder of just how volatile her wrath could be. Then again, he'd broken the cardinal rule of their world and gotten the police involved, so he'd deserved the punishment.

Little by little, the other boys in the orphanage began to wake. A few rolled out of another's bed and returned to their own. Yuri looked away just like everyone else did. Ten minutes later Matron turned on the glaring lights and ordered them all up. After a sparse breakfast they made their way to the work room. None of the boys needed to be told what to do. They operated the sweat shop with practiced ease, each doing their jobs wordlessly. By early afternoon, everyone was overheated and short tempered. No windows could be opened, and the temperature climbed into the low hundreds.

Yuri was opening a pressure valve when one of the bigger boys, carrying a load from the girl's building, collided with him.

“Hey, watch it!”

“Fuck off,” Yuri snapped. The boy dropped the boxes he was carrying and shoved Yuri. Much smaller and lighter, Yuri went flying into the hissing steam of the press machine. He threw up his hands automatically and one of them connected with searing metal. As he yelped and jerked back, the arm of the press rose and clipped his shoulder, dragging the heated material up his neck. He shrieked and stumbled out, only to find himself face to face with Matron.

“What the hell are you doing?” she hissed at him, lifting him by his hair. Yuri knew better than to say anything. He just glared at her, trying to ignore the throbbing pain of his burns. “Everyone out,” she called. “We're having an inspection. You know what that means!” The boys immediately abandoned their work and began filing out of the door towards the unused school room. “And _you_ ,” Matron shook him so hard his teeth clattered together, “cover up that mark. If Katsuki sees it, you'll live to regret it.” She dropped him and swept past, headed to the girl's side of the sweat shop.

Snarling at the matron's back, Yuri went to the dorm and grabbed his jacket, zipping it up to his neck on the way. The fabric rubbed painfully on the raw skin of his burn, but he gritted his teeth and ignored it. Katsuki was trouble. If he made a scene and caused Matron any more problems because of Yuri, there really was no telling what she would do to him.

All the other kids were lined up in the school room by the time he arrived. Matron was inspecting them, making sure that every trace of the sweat shop was gone. Satisfied, she waved her hand and everyone sat. Almost as one, they pulled out the blank workbooks that were in the desks and bent over them in mock concentration. Yuri grabbed his with his good hand and stared at it. The book was the same one that had been in the desk since he arrived six months before. Primary school math. He sneered at it. There were several of the kids who's education had never progressed even this far, but not a single one who _should_ have been at that level. The orphanage was a dumping ground of unadoptable and unwanted children, which meant almost all of them were teenagers. The little ones, even the ugly ones, were usually kept at the nicer places in the city. The sweat shop was reserved as a last stop before legal adulthood, when they would be ousted from the system and into a bright future of life on the streets, jail, or early death by overdose. Yuri wondered which it would be for him.

“Ah, children, what a pleasant surprise! Mr Katsuki has dropped by again to see us.” Matron's voice was sickly sweet. Yuri curled his lip.

“Surprise, Miss Yeon?” The sarcasm was easy to hear in Katsuki's tone, and Matron's eyes narrowed. It was a badly kept secret that she was tipped off about these inspections. The bored pencil pusher who had conducted them before hadn't bothered to care, but this new man did care. He was determined to make life difficult for them all. “Hello, kids.” He waved, smiling kindly at them. Yuri ducked his head to hide his sneer. Probably a closet perv, he thought. No one was that interested for selfless reasons.

Katsuki moved along the rows of desks slowly, stopping to talk quietly with several of the kids. Then, he paused at Yuri. Yuri hunched his shoulders deeper into his jacket and refused to look up. “It's Yuri, right?” He didn't reply. “You know, that's my name too.” Katsuki knelt down and offered Yuri another little smile. Of course Yuri knew that already. As if he could forget something that bizarre. It wasn't that common of a name in Japan or Russia. “Can I see what you're working on?”

Panic shot through Yuri as he realized that the blank, ill-suited work book would be a clear indication that the tranquil little classroom scene was a facade. He shoved the workbook back into his desk and shook his head jerkily.

“Okay, that's alright, you don't have to show me-” he stopped, and Yuri's heart rate kicked up a notch. _What now?_ “What happened here?”

“Nothing!” Yuri snapped, clamping his hand down on the top of the burn that had become visible when he shook his head.

“It doesn't look like nothing,” Katsuki murmured. He tried to lift Yuri's hand away, but Yuri dug his nails into his own skin and refused to budge. Katsuki sighed. “If you tell me what's going on, I can help,” he whispered softly. Yuri glared at him, wishing he would just _go the fuck away_. It wasn't like he could _actually_ help. He was just going to make things worse.

“Is something wrong?” Matron's voice came from behind him.

 _So much worse_.

“I was just asking Yuri how he got hurt.” Katsuki's frustrated voice came from between his teeth as he rose to face Matron.

“Such a clumsy child,” she tittered. “He fell at breakfast this morning.”

“It looks like a burn to me.”

“Does it? How frightful. Maybe we'll have the doctor look at it this afternoon.” Her hand came down on Yuri's other shoulder and squeezed painfully. Yuri knew better than to flinch.

“A fall?” Katsuki's wide brown eyes felt like they were boring a hole into Yuri. He nodded once, backing the story. For a long, tense, moment, no one moved. Then Katsuki sighed and walked past. “I'll have my report sent up to Mr Nikiforov this afternoon, Miss Yeon.”

“Of course. We're so happy you stopped by, Mr Katsuki. You're welcome back any time.” Her voice was so sharp it could have cut glass. Katsuki looked to Yuri one last time and then left. Once Matron had checked that he was really gone, she turned back. “Everyone back to work.” Chairs scraped across the floor as everyone began filing out to the work rooms again. “Except you,” she snapped, storming to Yuri's desk. When the last kid had left the school room, she lifted him by his hair. “Did you think you were being _clever_ , showing him your burn like that?”

She lifted him high enough that his feet left the floor. Yuri kicked uselessly. “I knew you were going to be trouble from the moment they dropped you on my door. I should have sent you to the slums back then and saved myself the headache!” She threw him backward. He hit the wall with a thud and saw stars for a moment. “I guess it's my own fault for thinking a worthless piece of shit like you could fit in here.” Her foot lashed out and connected with Yuri's stomach, hard. His breath left him in a rush. “A mistake I intend to correct,” she snarled, grabbing his hair again and then slamming his head back against the wall. Panic only had a moment to set in as the meaning behind her words registered, because suddenly, the world went black.

Xoxoxoxo

 

Yuri opened his eyes slowly, registering several different aches and pains in his body. Dim light was filtering in through a dirty window. He wondered where he was and how long he'd been unconscious.

“Boss, I think he's awake,” a voice called from outside the room. There were footsteps down the hall, then the door was thrown open.

“Yuri, my Russian kitten,” an oily voice cooed. The man was short, barrel chested, and sporting too many rings on his fingers. Yuri's stomach clenched. She'd really done it. The fucking bitch had sent him to the slums.

“Stay away from me,” he growled.

“Now, now, that's no way to speak to a friend. And I want to be your friend, Yuri. I'm sure you've heard all kinds of awful rumors about what we do here, but I can make your life very pleasant if you just do what I ask.”

“Fuck off.”

“I don't think that's the choice you want to make here.” The coyness dropped and his voice became flinty. “Because, you see, I can also make your life very difficult if you cross me. A pretty face like yours, we can draw in some real high class clients with that. Ones that'll treat you right and not mess you up too bad. But if you're gonna be a problem for me, then I'll throw you to the dogs. And kitten,” he gripped Yuri's chin in a crushing grip, lifting it till their eyes met, “they'll eat you alive.”

Yuri said nothing. He needed to think. There had to be a way to get out. He hadn't done well on the street last time, but he was older now, and he would learn from his mistakes. If he could just get away, he could-

“Why don't we see what we're working with, hmm?” The grip on his chin dropped away and Yuri collapsed back onto the cot. “Strip for me.” Yuri didn't move. “Now,” the man demanded. Yuri still refused to move. “Fine. You wanna do this the hard way, that's your choice. Miki, Lee, get in here.”

“Yeah, boss?” Two hulking bodies filled the doorway.

“Our little kitten here doesn't want to play. Take his clothes off.”

Yuri eyed the men, hoping that because of their size, they might be slow. He shot off the cot and tried to slip past them. One snatched at his shirt and missed, but the other caught a fist full of his hair. He lashed out blindly, kicking and clawing. A limb got close to his mouth and he bit down as hard as he could.

“Fuck!” There was a strew of more Japanese curses and then Yuri was thrown hard onto the floor. Heavy weight landed atop him before he could try and scramble back, crushing the breath from him. He felt his shirt being ripped from his chest and then fingers grabbing at the waist of his jeans. He kicked wildly but only seemed to expedite the process. Suddenly, he was naked and very aware of the three furious men above him.

“Stand him up. I want to look him over.”

He was manhandled upward and tried to jerk himself free. “Do what you need to do to get him under control,” the boss snapped. “Just leave his face alone.” A fist connected with his stomach, right in the same spot Matron had kicked earlier. Yuri's mouth opened in a silent scream of pain, and then his arm was wrenched behind his back. It felt twisted to almost breaking. The boss moved around, looking Yuri over from all angles before stopping in front of him again. “Those scars on your back are unfortunate. Otherwise you're quite the beauty. It really would be a shame to waste an ass like yours on the dogs, but don't think I won't, kitten.”

Yuri tried to glare but it was hard through the sheen of tears in his eyes. What the hell was he going to do? His usually clever mind seemed blanked with panic and pain. He couldn't see a way out. Maybe... maybe he should just do what they wanted. His stomach churned at the thought. Pain, he was used to. It was the humiliation he couldn't bear. The degradation. “Put him on his knees.” Yuri barely felt it as the lackeys dropped him down. “We're going to do a little experiment. I don't usually swing this direction, but you're going to suck me off. And if you're a good little kitten, then I'll give you your supper and send you to bed with no more demands. But if you fight me or use your teeth, I'll have Miki and Lee break you in.”

The sound of the zipper lowering seemed unnaturally loud to Yuri. He was trembling violently, trying to think, trying to figure out what the hell he was supposed to do. Then suddenly there was a dick by his face, soft and unassuming. It wouldn't be the first time he'd been forced to do this, he thought. He knew how. Wouldn't it just be easier if he did what they wanted? He certainly didn't want the two big guys to rape him. He already felt terribly vulnerable and his body ached with every movement.

“Open up, kitten. I'm not a patient man.” He gripped the base of his prick and directed it at Yuri's lips. Yuri fought the urge to retch. “Don't want to play nice? Fine. Miki-”

Yuri opened his mouth and squeezed his eyes shut. There was a soft chuckle from above him, and a hand fisted in his hair. Tears began to track down his cheeks and he felt a hot flush of shame creep up his neck. “There's a good kitty.” Warm pressure came up to his lips, and then slid between them. Yuri tried to keep his tongue low in his mouth, but he still tasted bitterness and salt. “Such pretty lips. You're easily worth three times what we paid for you,” the boss murmured. He pulled his hips back and thrust forward again. Already, his cock was starting to harden, lengthening until the tip of it hit the back of Yuri's throat. He gagged. “Come now, you've done this before, surely. Take all of it for me.” The fist in his hair tightened to the point of pain and suddenly Yuri's throat was roughly filled. He gagged violently, stomach heaving.

Whatever his intentions had been at the beginning, Yuri began fighting. He was choking, unable to breathe and the man above him was fucking his face without caring. All he could hear was his blood pounding in his head and his painful retching. His vision started to go white and his lungs were screaming for air. His struggles became more desperate, his body thrashing and fingers clenching uselessly. The burning in his chest and throat increased to sharp agony and on its own his jaw tried to close.

There was a shriek of rage and then Yuri heard his own gasping breaths scattered among the cramps of his stomach as he vomited bile on the floor. A blow he hadn't seen coming snapped his head to the side. “Fucking whore!” Another slap came from the opposite direction, and suddenly Yuri understood why the man wore all those rings. His cheek exploded in pain and he felt blood start to pour down his face. “You made your decision, little bitch. Remember that when Miki is balls deep in your ass and you're screaming in pain.” He slapped Yuri one last time and then started to leave. “Break him in, but don't do any permanent damage. I've got plans for him.”

“Uh, boss...” The man on Yuri's left pulled away a little, grimacing. “He's a little young for my taste. Kids aren't my thing.”

“Doing what I fucking tell you to do is your _thing_ , Lee. He's seventeen according to Yeon, that's plenty old to be fucked. If you don't like it, don't look at his face. That mouth of his is dangerous, anyway, until he's been trained better.” He slammed the door behind him, leaving Yuri alone with the lackeys.

“Just let me go,” Yuri begged, no longer caring for his dignity. Of all the terrible things that had happened to him in his life, this hadn't been one of them. He would do whatever they wanted if they would only leave him alone. “Please, please just let me-”

“Shut up,” Miki snarled. He used the hand he had twisted behind Yuri's back to force him off the floor and toward the cot. “I don't give a shit about your age. I've been hoping I'd get this chance since you came in. You're gonna _sing_ for me.” Miki pushed Yuri over the edge of the cot, bent at the waist. He tried to jerk back and twist to the side, but he was held tight. Miki leaned over him, letting the threatening heat of his erection press against Yuri's back as his hot breath blew against Yuri's neck. “I'm gonna enjoy this,” he whispered. Yuri snapped his head backwards. It collided with something hard and there was a roar of pain. Suddenly his hand was wrenched up even further. There were several sickening pops and agony shot up through his arm. He retched again, his vision going black for a moment before clearing. “Fuck! Fucking bitch! Fucking little _bitch_! I'm going to tear you a new-”

“Remember what the boss said,” Lee murmured. “No permanent damage.”

“He split my fucking lip!”

“You heard him.”

“Fine,” Miki hissed. He spat on his hand and then shoved two thick fingers into Yuri. Yuri cried out in pain and his hips moved uselessly, trying to get away from the burning invasion but having nowhere to go. “You think that's bad, bitch? Just wait till it's my dick. I'm gonna split you in half.” The pain increased as Miki scissored his fingers roughly. Then there was a small moment of respite when the hand pulled back, before a bigger pressure came against him. Yuri screamed, feeling as if the man really was splitting him in half. It was a burning torture the likes of which Yuri had never felt before. Just when he thought the pain couldn't be any greater, Miki pulled back and slammed forward again. Yuri's head swam and the world began to fade. He didn't fight it.

Before he could escape into unconsciousness, a sharp slap brought him back to his senses. “Don't pass out. I want you to feel every second of this. Sing for me, bitch.” Suddenly, Yuri's mouth clamped shut. He wouldn't. He refused. Miki drove into him again and Yuri bit his cheek hard enough to taste a rush of blood, but he didn't cry out any more. “I said, _scream_!” Yuri's head was jerked back, his spine arched unnaturally as Miki rode him harder.

“Miki you're gonna break him!”

Yuri wished the other man would shut up. He wished he _could_ die. He didn't want to survive this, didn't want to have to bear one more moment of this agony. He wanted the earth to open up beneath his feet and swallow him whole, erase him from existence.

None of that happened.

Miki eased his old on Yuri's throat, continuing to thrust into him over and over again. Yuri wanted to find a way to disconnect his mind from his body. Wasn't that supposed to happen? The body went into shock, the mind drifted away from the suffering... He prayed that would happen. It didn't, though. He stayed trapped inside himself, feeling every moment of his torment. Every minute seemed stretched out to an eternity. It felt like hours before Miki grunted harshly and climaxed. When he finally pulled back, Yuri stayed collapsed over the cot. His legs had long since given out, and he didn't have the strength to try and move. Pain overwhelmed him, drugging his senses and dulling his mind. Miki and Lee were arguing over something, but he was having a hard time following the conversation.

“...too rough... at his arm! ...don't want...”

“...what you were told.... you'll be the one.... do it!”

Then there was another sound behind him, a muffled slapping sound that he couldn't quite place at first. Eventually he realized that Lee was jerking himself to get hard. He wondered dimly if he should be glad that the man wasn't turned on by the thought of raping him. It wasn't going to stop him from doing it though, so it didn't matter. Miki was muttering insults beside them and Lee tried to get him to leave, but Miki refused. When Lee pressed against Yuri, he still wasn't completely hard, which made it all the more difficult for him to get in. Yuri squeezed his eyes shut against the new pain. Lee had to press tight against him until the pressure and heat finally brought him all the way up. He moved in slow, shallow thrusts that Yuri supposed he should be grateful for.

“Just fuck him, you pussy!”

“Shut the hell up,” Lee snapped. “I'm obviously doing it, so why don't you get out now?”

“I'm not missing the end. Maybe I'll even get it up one more time and ride him again.”

“You can't get it up again that fast.”

“I'll fuck his face till it's hard then.”

Yuri managed to turn his head towards Miki, his eyes slitted. “Put your dick in my mouth and I'll bite it off,” he slurred.

“You little-”

“Shut up, both of you! I want to finish and get the hell out of here.”

Miki muttered something under his breath but didn't say anything else. Yuri pushed his face against the ratty pillow on the cot and tried to ignore the pain of what was being done to him. Lee increased his pace fractionally, then gripped Yuri's hips tightly and stilled. There was a soft groan and a moment later the pressure eased. Lee stepped away. “Let's get tell the boss we're done.”

“You tell him. I wanna have some more one on one time with my new little friend.”

“No. Both of us, Miki. Come on.”

Miki snarled. “Fine. I'll just get a few shots in case I don't get the chance again.” He took his phone out of his pocket and began snapping pictures of Yuri. Though humiliation scalded him hotly, Yuri didn't have the strength to move to cover himself. His one arm was still twisted behind his back and totally limp, the other trapped beneath him. Eventually, Lee tugged Miki's sleeve and they left Yuri alone.

He wanted to try and think of a way to escape, to start looking for ways out, but he simply didn't have the energy. He felt wrung dry, utterly empty. Like his soul had been sucked out of his body and all that was left was a husk of a human being. Was this what his life was going to become?

No. He wouldn't, _couldn't_ , let that happen. If there was no way for him to escape, he would kill himself rather than live this way.


	2. Chance Encounter

 

Otabek checked that he had his cuffs tucked in the pocket on the back of the passenger seat and that his firearm was locked away. The car he was in wasn't his, it was a work vehicle, but he was still familiar enough with it to be comfortable getting at everything by memory. He would need to be quick. He'd volunteered for this beat and he wanted to show that he could make a real change. He'd done exemplary work at his previous precinct, but they were more skeptical of him here. It was time to show them that the rules didn't need to be bent for this part of town. Shady deals, cops looking the other way, tip offs, that was going to stop. And he was going to start by bringing in all the kids working corners.

At the start of the slums he turned off his head lights and cruised slowly. A few figures skittered back into the darkness, but some stepped forward. Otabek was about to pull over when he saw a tiny form step out and hold up a hand. His stomach clenched. Christ, how old was that kid? That was definitely the one he was taking in. He inched the car closer and then rolled the passenger window down. The kid leaned forward so his forearms rested on the side of the car.

“How much?” he asked, wishing for the first time that his Japanese accent was better. He wanted to blend in as much as possible for this.

“Twenty thousand.”

A boy, then. Otabek tried to see better in the dim light, but he couldn't make out anything other than delicate features and blonde hair. He tried to decide if he should haggle or not. Twenty thousand seemed a lot, so the kid probably expected him to dicker on the price, but he didn't want to take the chance that he would walk away. “That's high,” he finally said. The boy shrugged.

“I'm worth it.”

A shudder of revulsion went down Otabek's spine, but he repressed it. A kid this age shouldn't know something like that. Shouldn't have their worth measured in how much money they could make for sex. “Fine, get in.” The kid looked at him for a moment, then opened the door. Before he sat down, he checked that the lock went up and down. Clever kid. Otabek wondered how long he'd been on the street to learn a trick like that.

“There's an alley up here that you can park in. Twenty thousand gets you an hour.”

“Okay.” He steered the car towards the alley the kid pointed out and then parked. All he needed to do was get the kid close enough to get the cuffs on. He unbuckled his seat belt and pushed up the center console so that the boy could scoot closer, ignoring the curl of distaste at what it looked like he wanted. The kid shifted over and slipped his hand behind Otabek, groping his ass. Otabek forced himself not to flinch away. He stretched his hand behind the passenger seat slowly. The boy's eyes met his, wide blue to slanted brown, and Otabek thought for a moment he looked familiar. Then there was a small hand on his crotch and he had to grit his teeth and pray he looked aroused instead of saddened and disgusted. The kid didn't look more than fifteen, and he was fondling Otabek's ass and groin casually, as if it was totally normal. His fingers found the cool metal of the cuffs and he inched them forward as the kid slid the hand on Otabek's ass away, focusing all his attention on the other hand. Just as he was shifting back, Otabek brought up the cuffs and slapped one on the kid's wrist.

Those bright blue eyes flashed to his in a moment of sheer terror, then he shot backwards. Otabek realized half a second too late that the kid had taken his wallet and had already had one foot outside of the car. He tried desperately to keep a hold of the other end of the cuffs, but the kid jerked them out of his hand and was off like a shot. Otabek cursed loudly and followed. The kid was as fast and nimble as a snake in the grass, but Otabek had several inches of leg on him and at least two stone worth of muscle. They tore down the alley and across several streets, keeping to the shadows.

Just as Otabek began to think his stamina would run out, they came to a dead end. The kid scrambled around, looking for any kind of exit, but there was none.

“Stay back!” he practically screamed. “I'll give you back your wallet but you're not getting anything else from me.”

“I'm not going to-”

“I said stay back! I swear to _fuck_ that I'll bite your dick off if you try to-”

“I'm a cop!” Otabek finally managed to shout. The boy stilled.

“You're too young to be a cop,” he challenged, still poised to fight.

“I'm twenty. Took the test as soon as you're allowed.”

“I don't believe you.”

“Look in that wallet, then. It's got my badge tucked inside.”

The kid fumbled in the dark, then opened the wallet. The moonlight reflected off the golden shield. For a moment, the boy only stared at it, then back up at Otabek. “How do I know you're not still gonna do something?” he demanded. Otabek flinched. He'd heard there were cops here who occasionally cruised the slums off duty, but he hadn't wanted to believe the rumors.

“You're just going to have to trust me.”

“I don't trust anyone,” the kid snapped.

“Well I can't let you go, and there's no way out of this alley except past me.”

“If you're not a perv like you say, I can just toss you your wallet and you can let me go.”

“Prostitution _and_ theft? I don't think so. You're coming into the station.”

“I wasn't actually trying to pick you up, shithead. And if I give your wallet back, then no harm done.”

“You still stole it, and you still picked up a john.”

“I can't let you take me in.”

“I can't let you go.”

They stared at each other for a moment, weighing the other's resolve. The kid must have realized that Otabek meant what he said, because suddenly he feigned right and then sprinted left. Otabek almost fell for it, his greater mass making it more difficult for him to change trajectory as fast as the boy did. Still, strength and training were on his side. He lunged, catching the kid's jacket. The jacket was shrugged off in a flash and Otabek almost missed him, but managed to grab the kid's ankle as he fell. They both crashed to the ground.

The kid tried to scramble forward but Otabek blanketed his body, snatching the one hand still cuffed and trying to grab the other as it flailed.

“Get off! Get off me get the fuck off me!”

Otabek got the kid's other hand and twisted it back, but it wouldn't go far enough to cuff to the other. There was a loud pop and the kid let out a short scream.

“Oh god oh god please don't-” The kid's whole body tensed and he started to hyperventilate. “Please,” he begged raggedly. “Please don't. I-I'll suck you off. It'll be good, I swear. Just please don't-”

“Stop! Jesus, I'm not going to hurt you!”

“Please don't-” The kid was still trembling violently and only managing little gasping breaths. Otabek thought he was going to pass out at any moment. What the fuck was he supposed to do now? He shifted up, which only seemed to scare the kid more. The cloud obscuring the moon passed and Otabek saw jagged silver scars on the kid's wrists in the pale light. He felt sick.

“I'm going to get off you now, okay?” The kid didn't respond. “Listen to me, kid. I'm gonna get off, and roll you over. Then I'll cuff you in front and we'll go back to the car. I'll drive to the station and get you booked and no one is going to hurt you. I promise.” Still no reply. Otabek shifted to the side and brought the kid with him. He was able to get the cuffs locked in place and then pulled them both up to sitting. “Ready?” The kid was staring at him with glassy eyes. Otabek wasn't sure he was even listening.

“Okay, okay, this is better, I can do this, I can do this-” with shaking hands, the kid reached for Otabek's belt.

“Don't!” Otabek yanked him back as if scalded. “Listen to me. Kid, look at me, right now.” Those blue eyes rose up to his, still glassy and dead. “Take a breath. Can you do that? Inhale in- good, just like that. Now let it out slowly. Again. Good. Okay, now I want you to listen to me. I'm a police officer. I'm not going to hurt you, and I don't want you to do _anything_ to me. Got that?”

The kid blinked at him. “You're... not?”

“No. I'm going to take you in and book you. You'll be in a cell by yourself until they get you sorted. No one is going to touch you. Okay?” The kid didn't say anything, but didn't reach for his crotch again, so Otabek took that as a good sign. He got to his feet and pulled the boy with him gently. Once he collected his wallet and the jacket from the ground, he used his grip on the kid's arm to usher him along. It might have been a trick of the scant light, but it looked like the boy was _blushing_. “Are you alright?”

“What do you think?” he snapped angrily. Otabek smiled a little. He wasn't sunshine and roses, but it was better than the dead-eyed submissive he'd been on the street earlier.

“I mean, are you hurt anywhere. I heard your shoulder pop-”

“I'm fine.”

“Are you sure? I can call an ambulance to have you checked out before you're booked.”

“I said I was fine.”

“Alright, alright.” They walked on in silence for a few blocks. “What's your name?”

“Off.”

“What?”

“It's Off. Fuck T. Off.”

“Smart ass. What's the T stand for?”

“The Hell. Fuck the hell off.”

“Well, Mr Off, I'm sure if we run your prints we'll find another name in our system. Is it safe to assume you've got a record?” The car had come into sight and Otabek almost didn't notice that the kid had stopped.

“What day is it?”

“Huh?”

“What day is it?” he demanded again. Otabek thought for a moment, trying to recall what he'd written on his paperwork that morning.

“Friday, February twenty-third.”

“Shit!” The kid went stiff beside him, stumbling when Otabek tried to get him to move forward. “Shit shit shit! You can't book me.”

“I certainly can.”

“No, seriously. Lock me up, fine, put me wherever the fuck you want, but you can't book me. Not this week.”

“And next week is better for your busy schedule?” Otabek scoffed.

“I'm fucking serious. Lose my paperwork for a week. You can't book me till the second of March.”

“Not gonna happen, kid. Get in.” He opened the rear door and guided the boy in with a hand on the top of his head.

“No, just listen to me-”

Otabek shut the door and went around to the front. “You're going to be fine.” He started the ignition, ignoring the sound of the kid pulling uselessly on both of the rear door handles. “They'll get a hold of whoever your guardian is and you'll probably be out by next week.”

“If you do that, I'll be _dead_ by next week.”

Maybe it was the deadly serious tone of the kid's voice. Maybe it was because he felt bad about giving the kid a panic attack earlier. Maybe he was just a soft-hearted bastard in general. Either way, Otabek found himself pulling the car over and turning to the back seat.

“Fine, say for one minute I believe you. Tell me why you'll be dead.”

The kid searched his eyes for a moment, then let out a huffed breath. “Fuck it, you won't believe me.”

“Try me, kid.”

There was another pause. Just when Otabek was about to turn back and get on the road again, the boy looked down at his hands and started to speak. “I'm still a ward of the state for another six days.”

“Six days? Are you trying to tell me you're-”

“Seventeen. I don't look it, but I am. If you run me through the system, you're going to have to send me back to the orphanage that has my records. And if you send me to St Agatha's, the matron there will hand me over to the slum lord she sold me to eight months ago, who will take great pleasure in slowly torturing me to death.”

Otabek stared at the kid- fuck, practically a man, if he was to be believed about his age being only three years younger than Otabek himself – in shock. It took several minutes for all of those pieces of information to process through his mind at varying speed and order. St Agatha's. Torture to death. Sold to a slum lord. The orphanage...

“You're-”

“I'm not lying. You've got to believe me.”

“You're Russian.” Otabek continued to stare, realizing that he knew those eyes. He knew that biting, musical voice.

“I was brought to Japan a year ago through the-”

“-International Orphan's Foundation,” they finished in unison.

“H-how did you know that?”

Otabek turned on the overhead light and took off his police cap so he could see better. He could hardly believe it. He needed to be certain. The kid in the back squinted at the sudden brightness, then those wide blue eyes met his again. His hair was dirty, but still unmistakably blonde. There was a small freckle on the tip of his right ear. “Yura.”

“What did you call me?”

“Yuri. Yuri Plisetsky. Holy fuck.”

Yuri squinted again, this time as if trying to blur the lines that age had added to the other man's face. His breath hitched. “...Beka?”

xoxoxoxoxo

 

  
Otabek drove them to an all night diner. He was half afraid Yuri would bolt again as soon as the cuffs were off, but reasoned that he'd managed to chase him down on Yuri's home turf, so he could do it again in his own. As they slid into a booth, Yuri tugged nervously at the sleeves of his jacket, making sure they covered the scars Otabek had already seen.

“What happened to you after Spain?” Yuri asked after the waitress had brought them coffee.

“They sent me to Russia for a few years.”

“No shit. Where?”

“Moscow. The city was just as you'd described it.”

“I bet you froze your balls off in the winters,” Yuri grinned.

“Of course I did. Then I was bounced around a few different places in Japan before I ended up in St Agatha's.”

“You were in St Agatha's?”

“Only for a few months. I kept my head down and aged out. Then I hitchhiked to Tokyo and took every job I could until I had enough money to get into the academy. I passed my test the day after I turned twenty, spent six months in a small district in the city, then asked to be transferred here.”

“But... why? Why would you ever come back to this?”

“To _fix_ it. This can't go on like this. What I went through, what you went through- Jesus, Yura. She _sold_ you?”

“I- yeah. I don't want to talk about it.”

“We _have_ to. You need to report this. We can get her and whoever she sold you to. If they hurt you, they need to be-”

“That's not how this works and we both know it,” Yuri snapped. “You won't have enough evidence to convict her of anything, and if you did they would just replace her with someone as bad. The man she sold me to originally is dead, and the thug who took his place has a serious grudge against me. He would hunt me down and kill me if I ever tried to testify against him.”

“You can be protected.”

“By who? The cops who tip off the Matron whenever there's going to be an inspection? The cops who pick up whores on the alley and drop them off bloody?”

“By _me_ then!”

“Beka. You're one man. You really think you can take down the whole system?” Yuri shook his head and wrapped his fingers around his coffee mug. When he raised it to his lips, the sleeve of his jacket rode up a scant inch, revealing the scars there to the fluorescent light. Otabek gritted his teeth in frustration.

“We can't just do _nothing_.”

“You're right. You've got options. You can let me walk out of here and pretend you never picked me up. You can take me in and hold me for a few days and then run me as an adult after my birthday. Or you can do what you'd planned from the beginning, take me in and run me now. But if that's the decision you make, I'm going to go for your gun, Beka, because I'd rather put a fucking bullet in my head than go back there.”

Otabek stared at him, trying to _think_. His rational thought was continually clouded by his imagination, though. Scenarios played out in his head, each more gruesome than the last, as he wondered what could have happened to make his iron-willed, whipcord tough friend be more willing to kill himself than return to what he'd faced.

“I... I can't fucking think,” he muttered. “We're not doing any of that for now. I'll bring you home with me and we can sort it out there. If nothing else, you can lay low until your birthday.”


	3. Second Chances

 

Yuri paused in the doorway of Beka's apartment, suddenly uncertain. He hadn't been in an actual _home_ in... well, more than a decade. It was small, and there were boxes everywhere that Beka still hadn't unpacked since moving in two weeks before, but it was still a place Beka paid for with his own hard earned money. And he seemed totally at ease sharing it with Yuri without asking anything in return.

“Bathroom's through there. Most of the essentials are unpacked but-” Otabek turned and saw Yuri hesitating on the threshold. “Yura?” The childhood nickname fell from his lips without thought.

“Why are you doing this?” Yuri asked, his face shuttered and wary.

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you inviting a whore and thief into your home? I'm just some homeless guy, virtually a stranger-”

“Yura, you're not a stranger.”

“We knew each other for a little while when we were kids. I could be a killer or a junkie or....”

“Or on the run from a slum lord?”

“Exactly! Why would you offer to help me for nothing in return?”

“You think I'm angling to get you to _pay me back_ some sick way?” There was a hard glint in Otabek's eyes and Yuri brushed him off.

“Of course not. But there's no reason for you to trust me. I could clean you out and run off in the night. I could kill you in your sleep. I could give you some weird disease.”

Otabek looked at Yuri for a long moment, trying to figure out the right way to explain it. Yuri knew. He knew the way things were between them. They way they always had been and always would be. But for whatever reason, he was determined to poke holes in the truth. It seemed almost cruel, but Otabek decided a demonstration was the easiest way to set Yuri straight. He pulled Yuri through the door and closed it, then crowded him back against it. Despite the way Yuri's eyes went wide, he caged him in with one hand on either side of Yuri's head, close but not touching.

“Tell me why you trust _me_ , Yura. You willingly walked into the house of a man you claim you barely know. You know not all cops are good guys. I could be a murderer. I could be a sadist. Maybe I was down on the alley looking for a little boy to fuck and now I've got one trapped in my house that no one will know to look for. Maybe I _am_ looking for compensation for letting you stay here. How do you know I won't take advantage of you and demand... payment?” He purposely let his eyes travel down Yuri's body and then back up. Yuri swallowed hard, his face pale and his hands shaking. Otabek was cursing himself the worst sort of bastard when Yuri's hands came up and shoved him back.

“Fuck off, Beka, this isn't a joke.”

“I'm not joking. Tell me why you trust me,” Otabek demanded.

“That's not who you are.”

“People change.”

“Not like that. You watched my back. You watched half the fucking kids in that shit hole. You're a stupid, selfless idiot whose heart is too big for his own good. You couldn't hurt a... a...” Yuri swallowed hard, forcing the next word off his tongue. “A kitten.”

“I could hurt someone, Yura. I could _kill_ the people who harmed you. I still might. But that certainty, that bone deep knowledge, unshakable conviction that you can trust me not to hurt _you_ is exactly how I know that you aren't going to kill me in my sleep or any of the other ridiculous things you said. I _know you_ , Yura. I trust you.”

“You shouldn't,” he whispered, his voice breaking softly.

“Too late.” Otabek reached out a cupped Yuri's jaw gently. “You still have the eyes of a soldier, Yuri Plisetsky.”

“I'm not a soldier any more, Otabek. I'm a casualty of war.”

Otabek shook his head but knew better than to try and argue. Yuri was down, but he wasn't out. It would take more than a few hollow assurances to convince him of that, though. Whatever he had been through in the four years since they'd last seen each other had left shadows in Yuri's eyes. There were horrors in his past that Otabek could only guess at, ghosts he didn't yet know how to fight. All he could do was offer his support and be a shoulder to lean on. Once upon a time, Yuri had been that for him.

“Come on. I'll get you some blankets and you can sleep on the couch. It pulls out.” He started to head to the closet where he'd stuffed spare bedding when there was a low rumble behind him. He changed direction mid step and went to the kitchen instead. “Or a midnight snack first. I forgot how fast your metabolism is.”

Yuri chuckled, and suddenly they were kids again. They were sneaking into the kitchen at the orphanage in Barcelona to make a snack because Yuri had been deprived dinner as punishment for some offense. They sat on the balcony of Beka's apartment like it was the stoop of the orphanage and talked about the cars that passed on the street below, speculated wildly about the people they saw through the windows, made bets about how fast the red light would change. When they went back inside, Yuri half expected them to climb into cots so close they were nearly touching. Instead, Otabek excused himself to his room and Yuri stretched out on the sofa sleeper.

It wasn't a 'real' bed, but it was certainly the most comfortable thing Yuri had slept on in ages. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend that none of the years between had happened. That he and Otabek really were back to when they'd known each other before, older and wiser but not scarred by the past. He wondered what that would be like, to have grown up with Otabek, to not have the terrible memories that tormented him both in his waking hours and in sleep.

He was exhausted, but rest eluded him. Perhaps it was the diminutive splendor he found himself in. Or maybe it was the jarring change his life course had taken the moment he'd laid eyes on Otabek again. There was no doubt that things _had_ changed. Just seeing Beka again, knowing what he'd grown up to be, was going to change Yuri's life.

Still, the reality of who and what he was didn't vanish that easily. Despite Beka's confidence in him, Yuri thought about how easy it would be to steal some things and slip out in the darkness. The under cover car Beka was using wasn't worth a fortune, but he could hawk it for enough to skip town. Wasn't that what he'd wanted for years? To get out, start over somewhere else?

Maybe, if it had been anyone else that had picked him up, he would have. He would have rather taken his chances on the road. But this wasn't anyone else. It was Beka. Beka who'd gone hungry so that Yuri could eat. Beka who'd encouraged Yuri and saw something in him when no one else did. Beka who had become the voice in Yuri's head, urging him to do better.

Yuri shoved his pillow further down the thin mattress, trying to get comfortable. He closed his eyes and forced himself not to wonder what the next day would bring.

  
Xoxoxoxoxox

  
Two days later, Yuri was going stir crazy. He had luxuries he hadn't indulged in for years – some of them ever – and still he was practically twitching with pent up energy. The first day, he'd sent Beka off to work with a sarcastic salute, then proceeded to go through every inch of Beka's apartment. It was small and somewhat dated, but Yuri thought it was a palace. It was _Beka's_. Everything in it was his and his alone. He didn't have to share with anyone, didn't have to worry that his things would be gone if he turned his back for five minutes. Which made it all the more surreal that he had opened his home to Yuri.

There was a television, and Yuri amused himself for nearly an hour discovering its many functions and flipping through the channels aimlessly. There weren't any shows that could hold his attention, though, so he left it on for the simple indulgence of doing so, and looked for something else to do. In the kitchen, he grinned like a child at the unlimited access to food. He made a sandwich, inhaled it, then made another just because he could. He took the longest, hottest shower he'd ever taken and sighed in delight at the feel of his hair being soft and tangle free for the first time in ages.

When he was done, he rifled through Beka's closet, running his fingers over the soft, clean fabric of the clothes hanging there. He pulled a faded looking shirt off the hanger and buried his face in the material. It smelled like soap and Beka. A blush stole over Yuri's face and he felt a moment's mortification for his childish actions before pulling the overly large shirt on and borrowing a pair of boxers to go with it. None of Beka's pants stood even a chance of fitting him.

Beka had taken one look at him when he got home and burst out laughing. Yuri flipped him off but grinned. When Beka went out to pick up dinner, he bought some clothes in Yuri's size along with a few other necessities like a toothbrush and razor (which he discovered later that Yuri didn't need, much to his amusement and Yuri's chagrin). They talked before bed, Yuri asking Beka for stories about his days in the academy and the crazy people he'd run into during his time on the force.

In the morning, Beka again left for work, and Yuri realized that he'd never spent so much time in one place. Not once in his life had he been idle. When he was a child, there had always been chores to be done, his mother to take care of... At the orphanages, even the decent ones, there was work expected to be completed. On the streets, rest wasn't really an option. You couldn't let your guard down for even a moment or risk becoming a victim in one way or another.

He knew that there was a reason for him staying cooped up in the apartment. If he was picked up in the few days before his birthday, there wouldn't be much Beka could do to help him. So he was going to stay out of sight until after he turned eighteen, and then they would reevaluate. Beka still seemed to think that they could use the system in their favor and make positive changes, both in the orphanage and on the streets. Yuri was far more skeptical. All he really wanted was to be out of the clutches of the Matron and her slum friends forever. After he turned eighteen, Matron wouldn't have any hold over him, so all he had to do was stay out of Miki's way and he would be set. It wasn't that he wanted to live on the streets for the rest of his life, but he didn't have grand ambitions to better the world like Beka did. He just wanted to live in peace, with a roof over his head and enough food to keep his belly filled.

Maybe it was being in Beka's apartment, having a taste of what he wanted for himself, but Yuri was restless in more ways than one. He... _wanted_. So much of his life had been about the most basic survival. Meeting his essential needs and nothing more. But seeing what _could_ be made him long for more than that. There was so much more life had to offer. He wanted to run out and embrace it, even knowing that it was a ridiculous notion. If it was that easy, he'd have done it long ago. Still, he itched to move around.

When Beka came home, Yuri was torn between the urge to bounce to his side like a puppy or snap at him waspishly. He forced himself not to do either.

“I'm going crazy, here, Beka.”

“Huh?” Beka stripped off his jacket and shoes, then collapsed on the couch next to Yuri.

“I hate being cooped up. There's nothing for me to _do_.”

“Its only for a few more days, then you'll be safe to go out again. Though I'd really rather you stayed out of sight until we find a way to have that slum lord arrested.”

“I'm not hiding away just because of that bastard. He hasn't caught me in six months, he won't catch me now.”

“Six months? I thought you'd been out of St Agatha's for eight?”

Yuri stopped, realizing he had been about to say more than he intended to reveal. It was so easy to talk to Beka, so easy to open up to him. Yuri needed to be more on guard. There were some things he didn't intend to talk about – _ever_.

“I, uh, spent a few weeks in the slums before getting away. The guy who bought me might not even have really put up a fight to find me, but his lackey killed him and took over a month after I got there. When I was out I had to really watch my step. That bastard hates me.”

“Why?”

Yuri shrugged, trying not to show his unease at discussing Miki. “How should I know?”

Beka studied him, but didn't push. He knew that Yuri wasn't telling him the whole story. Not by a long shot. But he also knew that Yuri could get nasty when he felt cornered. Beka wanted him to open up, but he didn't want to force it. He intended for Yuri to be in his life for a long time to come. There was no rush, as long as Yuri was safe and healthy.

They ate more take-away (Italian this time, Yuri's choice) for dinner and watched a movie after. Yuri still had a hard time getting interested in the TV, but having Beka there to give sarcastic commentary made it worth while. Yuri had never bothered to pack away the sleeper since he was only going to need it again the next night, so they were stretched out across the bed. Eventually, as Beka had been making quips about the main character's lack of intelligence, they lost interest in the movie all together and laid on their sides talking. Yuri rested his head in his hand, propped up on his elbow. After a few minutes, he grimaced and shifted, his shoulder popping loudly.

“I don't suppose you've ever had that looked at,” Beka commented lightly. Yuri scowled.

“Yeah, went to the doctor right after I dropped my inheritance money off a the bank. Met a genie along the way who granted me three wishes. Now I'm the czar of Russia.”

“Smart ass. A simple _no_ would have sufficed.”

“Stupid questions deserve stupid answers.” He flicked Beka's forehead lightly.

“Not a stupid question. Maybe if you saw one, they could fix your shoulder.” Otabek paused, unsure if saying more would anger Yuri. “You should probably be checked out for other stuff too.”

“What, you think I've got rabies?”

“Seem pretty rabid to me. But I mean diseases. Stuff you can catch on the street.”

Yuri narrowed his eyes. “You mean crotch rot. Some sexually transmitted disease. My dick is none of your business, Beka, and no one elses, either. Fuck off.”

“Yura, some of them can be dangerous. And if you ever want to have a partner-”

“I _don't_ want to ever have a 'partner.' I don't plan on doing any of that sick shit with anyone, _ever_ , so it doesn't fucking matter.”

“Yura-”

“Fuck _off_ , Beka, I mean it. I don't want to talk about this any more.”

“Fine.” Otabek held up his hands in defeat. “But I just want you to know... I've seen the scars.” His forefinger brushed lightly along Yuri's wrists, the scars there as well as the long one that ran up the inside of his forearm. There were other scars, too, littering his back and even his thighs. “And you can talk to me about... about any of this stuff. Even if you just want to let off steam. It might help.”

Yuri clenched his hands into fists. He didn't want to lash out at his only friend in the world, but he wasn't going to tell Beka any of this shit. “There's nothing to help with. I'm fine.”

“Alright, Yura. I should get to bed.”

“Yeah. 'Night.”

“Good night.” Otabek closed the door behind him in his bedroom, leaning his head back against the wood. _Patience,_ he reminded himself. Yura would open up when he was ready. Otabek just needed to keep waiting.

  
Xoxoxoxox

The rest of the week passed both too quickly and far too slowly for Yuri. He was happier than he'd ever been in his life, but the restlessness was eating him alive, and the uncertainty for his future made it all the worse. He didn't have any interest in trying to make all the big changes that Beka wanted. He knew the system enough to be certain that if it was his word against the Matron's, no one would believe him. He was just an orphan, a street kid with a record. That was all the world saw in him. _Worthless._ They wouldn't see the matter worth pursuing. So what was the point?

Beka brought home enough food for a small army as well as a wrapped box on Yuri's birthday. Yuri had never celebrated his birthday before, and felt a little strange having all that attention, but somewhere deep down, he was pleased. He called Beka an idiot for buying too much food, and then tore open the present eagerly.

Inside the box was an assortment of papers. There was a plastic ID card with Yuri's picture on it stating his status as a legal adult. Beneath that was a bank slip, with account information in Yuri's name. It showed a balance of fifty thousand yen. At the bottom was a silver chain with a key on it. YP was engraved on one side and OA on the other. Otabek lifted it from Yuri's trembling fingers and looped it over his head.

“It's to the front door. Since you don't need to stay cooped up inside any more, I thought you should have...” He trailed off as Yuri looked up at him with tears in his eyes. “Yura?”

“Beka. You- you-” He dropped the box and wrapped his arms around Otabek's middle, hugging him tight. “You idiot. This is too much.”

“You need a fresh start. This is it.”

“I don't deserve this.” _I don't deserve you._

“Yes, you do. Perhaps more than anyone.”

Otabek looked so sincere, so fiercely determined, but Yuri could hardly bear it. If only Beka knew... If he knew all the things Yuri had done, knew exactly what he was, then he wouldn't be so stupidly generous. He wouldn't be offering Yuri a place in his home, in his _life_. He would treat Yuri just like everyone else did and throw him back onto the streets. But without telling Otabek the whole story, there wasn't anything Yuri would be able to do to convince him. Yuri felt trapped in a web of lies. The walls of the apartment seemed like they were closing around him.

As if he could sense Yuri's unease, they ended the night early and both went to bed. Yuri clutched the key around his neck and wondered what the hell he was doing... And why the memory of how it had felt to be cradled against Beka's chest was the only thing that seemed to bring him comfort.

 


	4. Void

  
Beka came home from work late the next night with the phone pressed to his ear. Against his better judgment, Yuri found himself straining to hear who Beka was talking to at this time of night. He stayed laying down on the sofa, eyes closed.

“-exactly what I was thinking. If we could get testimony, then that starts the investigation, but without the help of higher ups in the organization it likely won't go anywhere.”

There was a pause as Beka listened to the person on the other line.

“If you think he will, then I'll talk to Yuri in the morning and see if he'll agree to it. Maybe the two of them should meet first. I'm sure Mr Nikiforov is a busy man, but this is incredibly important. His cooperation would make this go from a one in a million shot to realistically possible.”

Yuri fought to calm his breathing. Who the hell was Beka talking to? They wanted him to meet with that idiot Victor? Why did Beka think that would help? Yuri had already _met_ the man, more than once. He wasn't someone who could actually accomplish anything, even if he was the head of the organization that funded the International Orphan's Foundation. Victor Nikiforov was an air head, totally wrapped up in his own little world. He didn't solve problems, he threw money at them and smiled pretty for the camera.

“I understand that. I can't tell you how much I appreciate the risks you've taken to get things this far. But it's not just you any more. Yuri can tell the story, and I will make sure none of this gets brushed under the rug ever again. I don't care if it costs me my career. This is going to end.”

Beka's voice was muffled behind his door, but Yuri heard him clearly. His stomach clenched into knots. Beka was risking his career over this? What was going to happen to him when they lost? Because of course they were going to lose. This was too big for a handful of people to take on. No matter how Yuri saw him, he knew that Beka wasn't bulletproof. Nikiforov would see that Yuri wasn't a pretty faced little boy who could earn him free publicity any longer and refuse to help. Then Beka's precinct would turn against him. Yuri was sure not all of them were corrupt, but enough of them were that the others wouldn't stop it. Beka would lose everything. And if whoever he'd been on the phone with was already taking risks, then they would likely end up knifed in a back alley some dark night.

It was too much. All of it, too much. Beka couldn't save the world. He couldn't save Yuri. Yuri had already been dragged too far down the road to hell to ever come back. And staying with him was only putting Beka in danger. Why had Yuri thought he had a chance at living a normal life? At being happy? Happiness was for good people. Wholesome, untainted people who had something to offer the world. People like Beka. Yuri couldn't drag him down any longer.

He waited until Beka had ended the call (“Thanks again, Mr Katsuki, I'll talk to you in the morning once I've spoken to Yuri about all this.” Yuri should have know that moron Katsuki would be involved somehow) and began to stealthily gather his things. Once he was certain Beka was asleep, he let himself out of the apartment and made his way into the night.

  
Xoxoxoxox

  
The first time Otabek met Yuri, he made the same mistake that everyone makes the first time they meet him. He saw a small, slim body, wide blue eyes and fine blonde hair and assumed that Yuri was fragile. Yuri had been surrounded by several other boys in the orphanage in Barcelona, and they had looked intimidating. Otabek had been in enough new places to know that first impressions are important. He was large for his age, not overly tall but well muscled and broad shouldered already. Most people saw his physique, narrow eyes and calloused hands and assumed he was trouble. It would have been easy to back away from the brewing fight and leave Yuri to his fate. Because of his looks, other kids rarely started trouble with him, and it was better that way. There was no need for him to go looking for a fight.

But one flash of those wide blue eyes and Otabek had strode forward ready to help. The funny thing was, Yuri didn't _need_ help. He was slippery as an eel and wily as a fox. By the time Otabek had reached the group, Yuri had snatched back whatever it was the bigger boys had taken from him and darted away, leaving behind three vicious looking bites. While the boys yowled in pain and went in search of band-aids, Otabek studied the little blonde perched atop a bookshelf like a cat.

They were opposites in almost every way. Yuri was light where Otabek was dark. Yuri was sharp where Otabek was soft. Yuri was forthcoming where Otabek was reserved. And somehow, they fit perfectly. Right from the start, it was as though they were matching pieces from the same puzzle. Through the rest of the time they were both in Barcelona, they were inseparable.

Their backgrounds were not completely dissimilar – as most orphan's aren't – but that wasn't what they bonded over. Instead, they seemed drawn together by the ability to look beyond their circumstances. They didn't wallow in their misfortune or let self-pity consume them. It would have been easy. It would have been understandable, even. But it was as though life simply had too much yet to offer them for either of them to sink into despair.

Yuri, Otabek learned, had become one of the poster boys for the International Orphan's Foundation almost immediately after his parents had died. His looks and tragic story made him the perfect face of the organization. Unfortunately, he didn't have the personality to match his looks. He'd been shuffled all around the world doing commercials – _for the cost of a cup of coffee a day, you could help feed these orphans_ – and being in photographs at various facilities. But as he got older, he was less inclined to smile for the camera, and eventually he was written off. By thirteen everyone had given up hope for him to ever make it out of the system and into a loving family. Barcelona wasn't the last stop, but it was towards the end.

Otabek had only been to two other homes, one in China and one in Canada, before landing in Spain. He likely wouldn't have been moved around at all except that he scared the other kids and even the workers in the orphanages. Between his looks and his tenancy not to speak, few people were comfortable being near him for any length of time.

The irony of that was that Otabek had a fragile nature. Heart of glass, Yuri called it. He hated seeing anyone hurt, hated injustice. He wanted to protect the world, and if he couldn't do that, then he was damn well going to protect those he cared about.

Being separated from Yuri had been one of the worst days in his life. They had no way of keeping in touch with each other, no certainty of where the other would end up. It was like losing his family all over again. They had both cried when no one else could see them, and neither of them had needed to say a word. There weren't any words to say.

The only small blessing that had come from their separation had been the abrupt end of the feelings that had begun confusing Otabek about his friend. He was two and a half years older, so he assumed it was normal for him to face these things first. Still, they unnerved him and left him with more questions than he could answer. The fact that Yuri was a boy wasn't the base of the confusion. He'd been in enough boy's homes to know that there were plenty of things that could go on in the dark between two males. It was more because Yuri showed absolutely no signs of interest in him that way, combined with the fact that Yuri was so _young_. At thirteen he could have passed for ten in the right outfit.

Age worked differently in the system than out in the world. Any kid who'd spent a length of time inside knew that. How old you were was measured by the homes you'd been through, the tragedies you'd suffered, the strength of your will. By those standards, Yuri was ancient. Still, though Otabek was a product of the system through and through, he wasn't comfortable seeing Yuri as anything other than a child. Which scared him. What did it say about him that he could be aroused by looking at or thinking about Yuri? What kind of friend was he if he was seeing the person closest to him in that light?

There were so many kids who ended up warped beyond repair from their time in the orphanages, twisted into something dark and frightening that no one who hadn't experienced it could understand. Otabek worried that was happening to him. Perhaps he was so starved for affection of any kind that he was tainting the innocent companionship Yuri gave him. He'd denied it, wrestled with it, hated himself for it. And in the end, they had been parted before he'd ever really had to face it.

He kept to himself in Russia and at the other homes he'd been at in Japan, not exploring any aspects of dating or sex until after he'd aged out of the system. There had been a few various partners, both male and female, but no one ever affected him the way Yuri had. He'd resigned himself to living without that rush of warmth, the tingle that wrapped itself around the base of his spine and spread out like a drug. And then, Yuri had barreled back into his life.

So many things were different. Years and experiences had come between them, but when they stayed up talking late into the night, it was as if all that simply fell away. More than once, Otabek had woken up hard and aching, a dream about Yuri lingering in his mind. He still hated himself for those feelings, but as an adult, he had a better understanding of them. He was attracted to Yuri. That much was simple. Anyone with eyes could see how beautiful Yuri was. The fact that he also _liked_ Yuri and that they were compatible in almost every way only served to deepen that attraction. Their age difference still bothered him, though not as much as it had before. Despite his looks, Yuri was no child. Much of the self-deprecation had gone with those realizations.

After having met Yuri again, though, there were new complications. He refused to share any details, but Otabek knew that Yuri had been assaulted. More than once by the look of it. He'd said that it had been a few _weeks_ before he'd been able to escape the slums, and Otabek knew what went on in those types of organizations. Just thinking about it made his skin crawl and his hands itch for retribution. It put his attraction to Yuri in a whole different perspective. While he could still appreciate his physical attraction to Yuri, there was no urgency behind it. They were tactile with each other, they always had been, but Otabek didn't feel the hot tug of longing when they touched. He didn't feel any guilt or shame for being close to Yuri or holding him because there was no ulterior motive behind it. Yuri had been scarred, inside and out. It would be a miracle if he ever felt sexual desire again. Otabek had no interest in pushing that. He was content to simply be in Yuri's life, no strings attached.

If all he ever got was wisps of dreams, then it would be enough. His will was iron and his self control indomitable. He had no intention of ever touching Yuri inappropriately, or doing anything that would make him uncomfortable. That was the end of the story. If one day, Yuri was ever able to overcome his traumatic past and _wanted_ anything more... well that was a different matter entirely.

Otabek was just happy that he would be around long enough to know if that time would ever come. Only two days after Yuri had come to stay with Otabek, the precinct had given him what they considered a dead end case. A social worker performing inspections on the local orphanage had concerns. Because the cops had always had a 'look the other way' policy about the ill concealed sweat shop the orphanage ran, the social worker couldn't get anyone to open a real investigation.

His superiors told Otabek to file the paperwork, dodge the persistent social worker, Yuuri Katsuki, and move on. Of course, Otabek had no intention of moving on. He'd called Katasuki and arranged to meet while he was on his shift a few days later. The slight Japanese man seemed like a simmering cauldron of anxiety at first, but Otabek was coming to realize he was a force to be reckoned with. When none of the many officers he'd reported his inspections to had done anything, Yuuri had gone to the director of the International Orphan's Foundation. When that hadn't yielded any results, he'd continued on. It had taken him months of pushing and conniving, but Yuuri moved higher and higher up the chain of command until he got a meeting with the CEO of the organization that funded IOF. When they'd finally spoken, Mr Nikiforov seemed dubious about Yuuri's claims, but concerned enough to meet with him again and potentially with Yura.

Otabek was thrilled. If they could get Nikiforov in their corner, things would turn around. The CEO was a powerful and well respected man. If he pushed the investigation, the precinct would have no choice but to comply. Once the orphanage was set to rights, Otabek could focus on finding a way to take down the slum lord who had hurt Yuri. Everything was falling into place.

Excited, he went to the kitchen to put coffee on. Normally he let Yuri wake on his own, but maybe this morning he would make an exception-

The sleeper was folded neatly away. Yuri wasn't there. A sick coil of panic started in Otabek's stomach but he tried to smother it.

“Yura?” The call echoed around the apartment. The bathroom was empty as well. Yuri was gone. Otabek waited, staring at the sofa for long minutes, hoping that Yuri would walk through the door. Maybe he'd gone to get breakfast. He had access to money and a key to the apartment. He could have walked down to the bakery. Gone out for fresh air. There were dozens of plausible explanations. Otabek kept telling himself that, but deep down, he already knew the truth.

All the things Otabek had bought for Yuri, with the exception of one pair of clothes and the toothbrush, were stacked on the coffee table. The box with the ID and bank papers sat on top. He hadn't taken any of it. That, perhaps more than anything, broke Otabek's heart. It would have been far easier to think he was wrong about Yuri after all, that he'd changed into just a thief who didn't care for Otabek at all. Yuri would have taken the money, one or two other things he could hawk, and moved on. Otabek would have been crushed, but he would have known that the man he cared for no longer existed and that at least the man he'd become would have money enough to survive safely for a while.

Instead, Otabek was faced with the fact that Yuri _hadn't_ taken anything from him. He hadn't wanted his money or his things, but he'd left and was back on the street. No money, no food, no future. Perhaps worst, Otabek was fairly certain he knew _why_ Yuri had left. Despite the strong front he put up, Yuri was broken. He couldn't accept that he was worth fighting for, worth caring for.

All that day, Otabek was plagued with the slim hope that he would get home and find Yuri lounged on his couch, griping about what Otabek brought home for dinner. But when he walked inside after his shift, the apartment was still empty, Yuri's things still sitting neatly on the table with their owner out god knew where. Otabek went out on his motorcycle, scanning the streets for the familiar slim figure and hunched shoulders. He searched the next night, and the one after that. It was useless. Yuri wouldn't be found because he didn't want to be found.

Otabek still met up with Yuuri Katsuki, still pushed the case against the sweat shop forward and still started compiling evidence on the criminal activity in the slums. Every time he pulled a prostitute off the street, his heart clenched. He asked a few of them if they'd seen or heard from Yuri, but none had.

Three weeks later, Otabek was driving home from his shift in the under cover car, thinking of the group of kids he'd found overdosed in an abandoned warehouse and praying that no matter how bad things god, Yuri never turned to drugs to dull the pain. He was so focused on his own thoughts that he almost missed the flash of dirty tiger stripe fabric fluttering in the breeze. It caught his eye from his peripheral vision, though, and he stopped the car, his heart in his throat. The jacket he'd bought Yuri had a tiger print hood. Yuri had made the cryptic comment in one of their late night talks that he wasn't a kitten. Otabek had laughed and said that he was more of a tiger than a kitten. The smile that had come to Yuri's face had been enough to make Otabek want to drape him in tiger stripes at every opportunity.

The material tugged in the wind again and Otabek tried to fight the hope rising in his chest. He was only a few blocks from his apartment. Was it too much to hope that Yuri was on his way there and had simply tossed away the jacket because it was dirty? He still had the key to Otabek's apartment, so he could get in at any time. As he got closer, Otabek realized that it was indeed the hood of Yuri's jacket. And to his horror, it wasn't simply tossed away in the trash. Yuri was still wearing it, sprawled face down on heaping bags of rubbish.

“Yura!” He lunged the last distance between them and rolled Yuri over, frantically checking for a pulse. It was there, faint but steady. “Yura, god please wake up.” With trembling fingers, he checked for injuries. There was an alarming amount of them. A gash on his forehead, bruises all along the side of his face, and his arm hung at an unnatural angle. “Yura, can you hear me? Yura!” There was a low moan, and Yuri's eyes fluttered a little. “Yura, I'm here. I've got you.” He fumbled in his pocket for his phone, missing the buttons three times as he tried to dial for an ambulance.

“B-Beka?” Yuri's voice was soft and hoarse, but it was the sweetest sound Otabek had ever heard.

“I'm right here, _janim,_ I'm here. You're safe.” The operator picked up just as Yuri's eyes cracked open. Otabek gave their current location and tossed the phone aside.

“Its you.”

“Yes, I've got you,” Otabek whispered, cradling Yuri's too light form and rocking back and forth unconsciously.

“I was... trying to go back... to you.”

“I'm glad, Yura. I wish you'd have come back sooner. I wish you'd never have left.” Tears were falling freely from his eyes and he didn't bother to try and stifle them. “What happened?”

“I... I didn't get away this time-” Yuri stopped talking and turned his face into Otabek's chest. “I'm so sorry.”

“No, no _detka,_ you don't have anything to apologize for.”

“You have no idea... no idea what I've done, what I am...” Yuri's voice cracked on a sob. He clutched Otabek tightly with his good arm, the other hanging limply at his side.

“I don't care. No matter what, you're still my Yura. Nothing else matters.”

Yuri's shoulders shook with the force of his tears, and they stayed huddled together like that until the ambulance arrived ten minutes later. Otabek followed behind in the car, loathe to be away from Yuri, even for the ride to the hospital. But he knew better than to be in the way of the paramedics as they did their job. When he reached the emergency room, he was informed that the doctors were evaluating Yuri and there was no news yet. Twenty minutes later unmistakable shouts were coming from the examination rooms. Otabek gritted his teeth against the urge to storm back there. Not long after, a hassled looking nurse came into the waiting room.

“Are you Beka?”

“Yes. Otabek Altin. How is he?”

“Not in good shape, but nothing looks life threatening. We can't tell for sure, though, because he refuses to let us complete his exam. We managed to undress him while he was in and out of consciousness and it's obvious that there is significant trauma, but he won't let us near him again and keeps demanding to see you.” She sighed, looking Otabek over critically. “Are you family?”

“Yes,” he answered without hesitation. “His only family.”

“Alright, then, come back. Just get him calmed down so the doctor can finish the exam. Stay out of everyone's way and try to keep him from jostling his arm.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

The nurse nodded, satisfied, and led him back to the exam room. When they walked in, Yuri's eyes were wide with panic, darting around the room as if looking for an escape route. He was cornered by a burly looking orderly and the doctor, who were trying to urge him back onto the table. His clothes had been cut away and he was clutching the tattered remnants of his shirt over his middle as he crouched.

“Beka!” Yuri practically screamed his name, chest heaving and body shaking. “Beka, get them away from me! Don't let them touch me!”

“Yura, it's okay. You're at the hospital. They aren't going to hurt you.” He moved quickly but carefully to Yuri's side, watching to make sure that Yuri didn't flinch away from him. Instead, Yuri molded himself to Otabek's side, trying to hide himself away from the others in the room. “They just need to finish examining you.”

“I don't want them to _touch_ me!” Yuri looked up at Otabek with terror in his eyes. “Please don't let them. I want my clothes, I don't like being-” he cut off with a strangled cry, pressing his face against Otabek's chest.

“Just relax, it's okay. No one is going to hurt you.” Otabek wrapped his arms gently around Yuri and looked at the others in the room. “Someone give me a blanket or something to cover him with.” The orderly handed him the blanket from the exam table and Otabek draped it over Yuri's body. “Yura, look at me.” Slowly, Yuri's eyes lifted. “They just want to help you. It looks like your shoulder is dislocated and you're probably going to need more stitches and some antibiotics.”

“No, no, I'm fine. I got better on my own before. I can do it again. Please just take me home.”

Otabek swallowed hard. How many times had Yuri ended up like this and suffered through it, alone and in pain? He couldn't bear to think on it. He put more steel in his voice than he felt when he spoke again. “No. Not till after they say it's safe to leave. You need to let them finish the exam.”

“Beka-”

“Listen to me, Yura. I'm right here. I promise I'll protect you. But you've got to let me.” He stroked Yuri's cheek softly, trying to _will_ him to comply. Yuri searched his eyes for several long moments. “Do you trust me, Yura?”

“I... yes.”

“Good.” Otabek let out a shaky breath. “Good. Now let's get this over with. We'll do it together. Onto the exam table first, okay?” Yuri nodded fractionally and let Otabek lead him back to the table. Carefully, Otabek lifted him onto it. “There are too many people in here,” Otabek informed the others in his officer voice. “Everyone out except for whoever is doing the exam.” The nurse and orderly looked affronted and started to protest, but the doctor waved them away after one look at Otabek's face.

When it was just the three of them in the room, the doctor began inspecting Yuri's shoulder. “This is going to need an x-ray, but I think your friend here is right. It looks dislocated. There seems to be other damage as well. Has this happened before?” Yuri nodded. “I'll get you an orthopedics consult, but there might be lasting damage. How do your lungs feel? Any pain when you inhale?”

Methodically, the doctor checked over every inch of Yuri's battered body. There were no other broken bones, and only one other gash that required stitches. Eventually, the doctor looked pointedly at Yuri's groin over the blanket. “I need to do an internal exam and run a rape kit, but I can't do them without your consent.”

“No!” Yuri flinched away and looked frantically from the doctor to Otabek.

“Yura-”

“I said no! I don't want it!”

“There was a significant amount of blood when we cut your jeans off. There could be-”

“I don't care! I don't want-”

“Yura, stop!” Otabek gripped Yuri's good hand and shook it a little. “He's not going to hurt you. If there's any damage, he needs to be able to fix it.”

“Beka, I... I can't. I can't do it.”

“Yes, you can. You're the strongest person I've ever met. You can get through this. I'm right here. Just let him do what he needs to do.” They stared at each other for a long time, and eventually Yuri closed his eyes.

“Fine.”

“Would you rather I left?”

Immediately, Yuri's fingers dug into Otabek's arm. “Don't leave,” he demanded.

“Alright. I'm here for as long as you want me.” Otabek purposely turned his body so that his back was to the doctor and he was looking directly into Yuri's eyes. “Just keep looking at me, Yura.” There was the sound of gloves snapping and plastic tearing. Yuri's knee was lifted until it was pressed against Otabek's back. His breaths came shorter and faster, his face twisted up in fear. More rustling came from the end of the table.

“This is going to be a bit cold. I just need to clean you up a little.”

Yuri flinched, but kept his eyes on Otabek. Beka brushed his fingers through Yuri's hair and caressed his face lightly, trying to keep him calm and grounded.

“There's going to be some pressure now. Try and relax, alright?” The doctor kept his voice gentle, and Yuri barely acknowledged it. There was a pause, and then Yuri gasped. His face leeched of color and he squeezed his eyes tightly shut. A low whimper crept up his throat.

“Yura,” Otabek whispered brokenly, pressing his forehead to Yuri's carefully. “I've got you, _janim_. Just focus on me. I'm right here.” The melody popped into his head from some forgotten recesses of his childhood and before Otabek realized what he was doing, he was humming the lullaby softly in Yuri's ear. Yuri's breathing, which had begun to creep towards hyperventilation, slowed a little. A few minutes later, there was another snap of gloves and the doctor stood up.

“All done. We just need to get some x-rays and then you'll get IV antibiotics for at least twenty four hours. Depending on how these cultures come back, after that we can switch you to oral antibiotics. Let me get you a hospital gown to put on.” He dug in a drawer and came up with a flimsy paper gown that opened in the back. Yuri looked at it in horror.

“Th-that's not clothes. I want my clothes back.”

“We had to cut them off you when you first came in. Not to mention, they were filthy and covered in blood.”

“Here.” Otabek began unbuttoning his dress shirt and slipped it off, then pulled his undershirt off and put it over Yuri's head.

“You're not going to give him your pants, too, are you?” the doctor asked with a small smirk while Otabek rebuttoned his shirt.

“If that's what makes him more comfortable.”

The doctor grumbled good naturedly under his breath and shook his head. “Keep your pants on. I'll see if one of the nurses has an extra pair of scrub bottoms that might fit him.” He gave them a small smile and went to talk to a nurse. Otabek looked back at Yuri, who was curled up in the too-large t shirt. He seemed so small and fragile, a ghost of the person he really was.

“Are you alright, Yura?”

Yuri looked up at him. He felt utterly lost, and Beka was his only port in the storm. “I don't know,” he answered honestly.

 


	5. Bitter Confessions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note the warnings here, people.

  
Yuri was taken for x-rays and an MRI. His shoulder was set and then put in a sling. It was late by the time he was finally given a room and allowed to rest. There was an IV in his arm and several different bags were hung above him, slowly dripping fluids and antibiotics into his body. The pain medication they gave him eventually put him to sleep. Otabek stayed by his side the whole time.

When Yuri woke at noon the next day, he panicked at first, not remembering where he was. Then it came rushing back to him, along with intense shame. Beka was passed out in a chair by the bed, leaned over so that his head was resting beside Yuri's hand. Yuri couldn't believe he hadn't left. No, that wasn't right. He _could_ believe it. Even after how crazy Yuri had acted, after everything he'd seen, Beka wouldn't leave. That was just who he was. Yuri almost wished he would have left.

He felt humiliated and so very broken. As if nothing would ever come back together again the way it was before. The worst part was that he wasn't sure he was strong enough to run again. He was going to stay, let Beka take care of him, and in the end, he was going to destroy Beka's life the way he'd destroyed his own. Tears pricked the back of his eyes and he squeezed them shut to keep them at bay. Eventually, he fell into a fitful sleep again.

The next day, Yuri was discharged from the hospital. They might have kept him longer if Yuri's barbed tongue hadn't made a full recovery. Otabek took care of everything, handling the paperwork and making sure that the various prescriptions Yuri had been given were filled. They drove back to the apartment in silence, stopping only to pick up take out that they could heat up later.

Instead of pulling out the couch, Otabek set Yuri up in his bed. For a week, he took care of Yuri as much as physically possible. Though he didn't say anything, Yuri knew he wasn't sleeping much. He stopped at the apartment at random intervals during his shift to see if there was anything Yuri needed, and, Yuri realized, to make sure he was still there. They talked a little, but never about what had happened. Otabek never pushed, never pressed. He was just there. A strong, steady presence that Yuri found himself relying on more and more.

After an eighteen hour shift, Otabek started his four rest days. His schedule still confused Yuri, but Beka had printed it off and clipped it to the refrigerator so that Yuri would always know where he was. It was one of many gestures that reminded Yuri just how undeserving he was of Otabek's care. He came home that night with Italian for dinner because he knew it was Yuri's favorite. After they ate, Otabek put on one of the few movies Yuri actually liked. He turned up the thermostat because he knew Yuri got cold easily.

“Just fucking stop it!” Yuri snapped at him. Otabek froze, hand still on the thermostat.

“Too warm?” he asked.

“It's _fine_. Stop being so... so _nice_ to me!”

“What? Why?”

“You're going out of your way to do e-everything for me and you're barely taking care of yourself because of it! I don't- I don't deserve...” Yuri trailed off, looking down at his hands, which were balled into fists. “Just stop.”

“No.” Otabek sat next to Yuri and met his eyes when Yuri's head jerked up in surprise. Neither of them said anything as Yuri stared at him incredulously. “I let things go last time. I tried to believe that you could handle it on your own. And you ran away and could have been killed. I'm going to take care of you. I don't care if you don't like it, or if you hate me for it. Because I can't-” he stopped, taking a breath and letting himself think back to the horrible moment of finding Yuri unconscious in the street. “I can't go through that again, Yura. I'm not strong enough.”

“You shouldn't even _care!_ None of this is fair to you!”

“I don't give a damn about what's fair!” Otabek surged to his feet, his face pinched in anger. Yuri couldn't remember ever having heard him raise his voice that way. “Was it fair that our parents died? Was it fair that you got shipped around the world like a piece of fucking luggage? Was it fair that they dumped you in a sweat shop and then sold you off? Was it fair for you to have to live on the streets, getting attacked and constantly fearing someone would come along and do worse? None of it's fucking fair! For once in your life, you deserve a break. You deserve _help_. And I'm going to be the one to give it to you.” He stood there, chest heaving, eyes fierce. Yuri felt as if the whole world had condensed to just that room. To just the two of them, orbiting around each other, caught in the terrible pull that refused to release them. And he knew, sooner or later, that pull would become too great and Yuri would crash into Beka. One or both of them would be smashed to pieces. Yuri was already broken, so he didn't care if it was him, but he couldn't bear the thought of it being Beka who was shattered.

“I- I'm not _worth_ it! You have no idea who I really am! If you knew... if you knew what I'd become... what I'd done... you would know better than to give anything to me.” Inside, there was a part of him screaming at him to shut up. Part of him that was so fucking grateful to be given a chance to start over, make a change, that he wanted to hold on with both hands and never let go. He _wanted_ to have a better life. Enough that he would have used almost anyone in the world as a stepping stone to get there. But not Beka. He was the one person that Yuri was willing to put before his own happiness, his own self preservation, his own life if need be.

“Then tell me. Tell me everything. Take the chance that when I know it all, I'll still be around. Let _me_ decide if you're worth it or not.” He sank to his knees in front of Yuri, cradled Yuri's hands in his own. He pleaded with his eyes, begging silently to be given the chance. A hundred different emotions flashed across Yuri's face before it finally hardened in resolve.

“Where do you want me to start?”

“The beginning. The very beginning. Tell me everything I don't know.”

“Fine.” Yuri pulled his hands away from Otabek's and pushed him back so he was sitting on the opposite side of the couch. “I wasn't who you thought I was from the start. By the time we met I was already fucked up beyond repair. I learned to hide it. From everyone.”

“Even me?”

“Especially you. You were the first good thing that had ever happened to me. I wasn't going to risk driving you away by telling you what I was.”

“I don't understand-”

“I was a _pedik_. A fairy.” He looked down, heat rising to his face. “From as long as I could remember. I didn't even realize it was different at first. When I was ten and at the boy's home in Bangkok, the man that ran it noticed. He sometimes... he did things... with some of the older boys. He saw the way I acted, the way I was, and he said-” Yuri took a breath, his face twisted up in disgust. “He said that boys like me were made to do those things. It was the only reason we were alive.”

“Yura-” There was pain and fury in Otabek's voice, but Yuri cut him off.

“I know it was a lie. I know that now. But at the time, I was scared. I didn't want to admit it, but I'd seen what he did to the older boys. How much it hurt. How humiliated they were. I was terrified of that. He said since I was so young, I could... use my mouth instead.” Otabek flinched. “I learned how to keep him happy. To keep him from doing any more. And they moved me before anything else ever did happen, but it didn't erase what I'd become. For a long time, I thought the rest of it was gone. I didn't feel anything towards boys any more, but I didn't feel anything towards girls, either. I was just... empty.

And then I met you. And over time... it grew back. I'd thought I could erase it, all of it, but then I liked you and trusted you and there wasn't anything I wanted more than to just-” He stopped, clenching his hands into fists. “I would have given anything for you to stay, but it was good that you left. The feelings went with you. I let myself forget about it. I came to this shit hole and it was like the matron knew there was something wrong with me. She hated me from the start. I tried running away, thinking I would be better off on my own than under her thumb. I made a decent go of it, too. Spent a month on the street before getting picked up. But I'd broken the number one rule of our world and got the police involved in the matter. It was one of the local cops, so they took me back without looking into it any further, but it didn't matter. She took out her aggression on my back with a belt buckle.

After that, I knew it was only a matter of time. That social worker Katsuki showed up and put her on edge. One day he came for one of his 'surprise' inspections and I had burns on my hand and neck from the presses. He put her on the spot about it. She covered, badly, but the damage had been done. Even though I hadn't done anything purposely to arouse suspicion, she was finished with me. She beat the hell out of me and sold me to the slum lord while I was unconscious.

When I woke up, he had his lackeys strip me and said he was going to put me to work. When I told him to fuck off, he said he'd give me a chance to play nice. He wanted me to s-suck him off. I knew how to do it. I should have just gone along with it. But I just... I didn't _want_ -” Yuri stopped and took a breath to compose himself. “He shoved his prick so deep in my throat that I couldn't breathe. I was retching and choking and I ended up biting him. He left me to the lackeys after that. Miki... he went first. He's a sadist. He fucked me as hard as he could just for the fun of seeing me bleed. He wanted me to scream but I didn't. Not once.” Yuri lifted his chin, still proud of the fact that he'd denied that sick bastard the pleasure. “Lee, the other guy, he didn't want to. Thought I looked too young, even though I'd turned seventeen. Or maybe he just didn't want sloppy seconds. Miki didn't give him much of a choice, though. At least he was done quickly.

Then they left me there. My arm was broken and my shoulder dislocated from how hard Miki had twisted it behind my back. I was covered in vomit and blood and come and I knew I should have been trying to find a way to escape, but I just couldn't _move_. The slum lord saw the condition I was in and locked me in a room for a few days so I had time to recuperate. He tried, off and on after that, to get me to cooperate willingly – didn't want to spoil my _pretty face_ with the rough stuff – but I never gave in. I lost track of the number of times he had me... had them... hurt me. It seemed like ages, but it was only a little while later that Miki got tired of following orders. He slit his boss's throat and took over. After that he kept me chained up in his office for whenever he was bored or particularly angry. I got these,” he showed the scars circling his wrists, “trying to pull away. Eventually, I pretended to give in. I let him get confident enough to take the cuffs off me. Then when he shoved his dick in my mouth I bit it off.

I ran while he was screaming on the floor. I was hoping he'd die from it, but I'm not that lucky. For months, I was constantly looking over my shoulder, terrified he would find me and drag me back. I knew what he would do to me if he ever got his hands on me. But being that cautious meant that I couldn't go to the places the other street kids did. I couldn't work the square, couldn't even catch a meal at the shelter. It wasn't long before I was starving. Not hungry, not under fed, but literally starving. Somehow, I'd wandered into the alley and some guy pulled up beside to me.” Yuri stopped, unsure if he could go any further. The next part was his deepest shame. Nothing else even came close. He braved a glance into Beka's face and saw that he already _knew_ what happened next. “I got in with him. I didn't care what he did, as long as I got money for food. And I thought... I thought that it would be better, if it was my choice.

But it wasn't better. He fucked me and it _hurt_. I c-cried. I didn't mean to. I would have given anything to stop, but I couldn't. He was pissed, said I wasn't worth the money, just skin and bones anyways, so he shoved my face down so he wouldn't have to see me crying and finished. Then he threw me out of his car. But he paid me. I was able to get a meal for the first time in I couldn't remember how long.

And then, once I could think again, I realized what I'd done. I whored myself out for money to eat. The only option I had left was selling my body to survive. And I realized that I didn't want to live if that was the way I had to do it. So I found a quiet street the next night and a broken shard of glass.” Slowly, he traced the identical scars that ran up the inside of his forearms. “I tried to end it. For hours, I laid in that gutter, praying for it to all finally be over. But I fucked up even that, I guess. There was no reason I should have survived – I lost so much blood – but I did. After that, I drifted for a while. I came up with my bait and grab gig, and it seemed to work alright. I didn't like the idea of robbing people, but I figured that if they were looking for kids to fuck, then maybe they deserved to have their wallets stolen. I was making it work.

Until one night I got into a car with a guy who cuffed me right as I was about to take off with his wallet.” Yuri laughed a little, the sound foreign to his own ears. “And it was like you'd stepped out of a dream and back into my life. You gave me everything I ever could have hoped for, acted like I was actually worth trying to save. I tried to go along with it. Tried to convince myself that it was okay for me to let you. But you were so determined to change things that you were putting yourself at risk. I heard you on the phone with Katsuki that night. You said you didn't care if it cost you your job. And it would be my fault, I set you off on this stupid crusade for revenge or justice or whatever that you were going to throw everything away for. I was going to drag you down with me, take away everything you'd worked for.” He paused, fingering the key around his neck. The one with his and Beka's initials on it. His chest felt tight. “So I left. I went back to the street. I'd done okay on my own before, and I thought I could go back to it. For a little while, it worked. And then... then I tried another bait and grab. But I didn't get away. They guy chased me down. He slammed my head against a brick when he caught me and then fucked me against a dumpster in the alley. He was... big, and I nearly blacked out from the blood loss and the pain but when he was done all I could think about was.... was getting back to you. So I put my clothes back on as best I could and tried to make my way to your house. I don't remember much of it. I must have collapsed at some point, and by whatever stroke of fate, you found me. I was half out of my mind when I woke up in the hospital. I'm still mortified about how I acted, how weak I was. How weak I still am. I let you take care of everything, let you bring me back here and take care of me to the point of neglecting yourself. But I can't do it any more. Don't you see? _I'm not worth saving_. Maybe I haven't been from the start.” He let out a shuddering breath. It wasn't a magic fix. Things weren't suddenly all better. But for the first time in longer than Yuri could remember, he felt... light. As if just the act of telling another person had lessened the weight he'd begun carrying the moment his parent's had died.

“Yura.” Otabek breathed his name, his voice rough. “Can I hold you?” Yuri's eyes flew to Beka, startled and confused.

“H-how could you possibly want-”

“What I want,” he paused, opening and closing his hands as if they were fighting the urge to snatch him on their own, “is to hold you. Please.” Slowly, Yuri crawled across the scant distance between them and settled himself in Beka's lap. After a moment, Beka's arms came up around him and cradled him gently. The pressure increased gradually until Beka was clutching Yuri to his chest. It took Yuri a moment to realize that the jarring movements were Beka's shoulders shaking. He was crying. His whole body was wracked with the tears, his hands shaking violently where they cradled Yuri's head and back. “Yura,” he whispered brokenly. “Yura.”

Yuri just laid in his arms, bewildered. At some point, a few of his own tears began to fall, the release cathartic and wildly liberating. He felt closer to Otabek than he ever had, and still he waited for it all to come crashing down around him. At some point, Beka would come to his senses. He would realize that the man in his lap was a whore who'd been fucked countless times. A screw up who hadn't even been able to kill himself properly. And a selfish, twisted fuck who had put Otabek in the middle of that mess.

“I wish you'd told me. Back at the beginning, I wish you'd have told me what you'd been through. I might have... been able to help. At the very least I could have listened and supported you. Explained that there was nothing wrong with you and it wasn't your fault. I spent so many years thinking that maybe it was for the best that we were separated, because I didn't want to frighten you or confuse you, and in reality we could have-” he stopped and shook his head, leaving Yuri more confused than when he'd started. “That woman is going to pay for what she did to you. For how she hurt you and for selling you to those slum bastards. And when she's taken care of, I'm going to find the men who touched you and make them pay, too. Just thinking about what they did... it makes me feel sick. I swear to you that I will hunt down the sadist who gave you these scars and make him wish he'd never touched you.”

“And what about the one who gave me these scars, Beka? I put them there _myself_ because I couldn't bear the shame of being a whore.”

“You're _not_ a whore,” Otabek snarled. “No one can judge you for what you did to survive. I'm _grateful_. Do you hear that, Yura? I'm grateful that you're still alive. I don't care how you got here. I'm just glad you're still with me.”

“I'm not- I'm not-”

“Not what?”

“Not _whole_. I didn't come through this in one piece. I'm a thousand jagged little shards and if you keep holding me, I'm only going to hurt you.”

“Cut me to ribbons, then. I don't care. You think you're the only one who's broken? We all have scars, Yura. I'm not so fragile that I can't take a little more pressure. You're worth it to me. You're more than worth it.”

“How can you say that? What do you _want_ from me?”

“I care about you! I want you to be happy and safe and healthy. I want to have you in my life, however you're comfortable with that. I want to help you and support you.”

“I don't deserve-”

“Don't. Don't say that. I told you to let me decide that. You told me everything, every dark piece of your past, and you're still worthwhile, Yura. You still deserve love.”

Yuri didn't know what to say. He was increasingly convinced that there was _nothing_ he could say to drive Beka away. The thought both terrified and liberated him. Beka _knew_. He knew every secret Yuri had ever tried to hide, and he was still there, still holding Yuri tightly. Unable to resist any longer, Yuri melted into Beka's embrace and allowed himself to be rocked like a child. Beka began humming again, the soft, sweet melody he'd hummed to Yuri in the hospital. Something welled up inside Yuri, warm and light and almost frightening in its intensity. He let the strange feeling encompass him until his whole body was tingling with it. Eventually, he succumbed to the feeling of safety and comfort, and drifted to the first untroubled sleep he'd had in years.

  
Xoxoxoxox

  
Yuri was still against Beka taking on the orphanage and the slums alone, with a corrupt police force at his back. Otabek refused to back down, however, so Yuri agreed to let Katsuki take him to see Victor. If there was a way to get the rich idiot involved, then that would take some of the pressure off of Otabek. There would be less risk that Beka's fellow officers would turn on him.

A few days later, they met Katsuki outside a highrise in Tokyo. The slender Japanese man held out his hand to Yuri, who took it reluctantly.

“It's good to see you again, Yuri. I'm glad you're well.”

“No thanks to you,” Yuri muttered unkindly. Yuuri blanched. Otabek nudged Yuri and shot him a look. “I mean, thanks. Let's just get this over with, shall we?” Katsuki looked searchingly between the two men, but nodded and led them inside.

“I've met with Vi- I mean, Mr Nikiforov, twice now. He's still somewhat skeptical because he trusts the man he put in charge of the IOF, but he'd willing to listen. I've given him my reports as well as Otabek's account of his time in St Agatha's. I'm positive that hearing your story will convince him to take action.” The elevator dinged and opened to reveal a beautifully appointed office. A pretty blonde receptionist took their names and asked them to wait. Yuri fidgeted uncomfortably, touching Beka's arm lightly from time to time as if to make sure he was still there.

“Mr Katsuki, Mr Nikiforov will see you and your party now.” The receptionist gestured them through the double doors on their right. Victor had been sitting behind his desk writing, but he stood when they entered.

“Ah, Yuuri, lovely to see you again. And these must be the children you were telling me about.” He turned to Yuri and Otabek, who'd just shut the door behind them.

“I'm not a child, moron,” Yuri hissed.

“Yura!” Otabek looked anxiously from Yuri to Victor, but Victor didn't seem upset. He froze for a moment, then his brows drew together.

“I know you, yes?”

“You did, once upon a time, before your worthless organization decided that I'd outgrown my usefulness and threw me away.”

“Plisetsky. Yuri Plisetsky. You were from St Petersburg. They were doing a commercial in Bangkok and thought you would be good in it. You barely look any bigger than you did a decade ago.”

“Yeah, well your hairline looks twice as high. Some things change, some things don't.”

Victor slapped his hand to his forehead. “Is it really getting that bad?”

“Your hairline is _fine_ ,” Yuuri assured, shooting Yuri a look. “Maybe we could sit down and get to the matter at hand.”

“ _Da, da._ Please, take a seat.” Victor gestured them to the chairs and low sofa in front of the enormous window. “So, I'm told that you had a rough go of things since I saw you last. What happened after that commercial? You stayed in the boy's home in Bangkok, no?”

Yuri nodded. “For a year. The director taught me to suck cock to keep him from raping me.”

Victor choked on the drink of water he'd just taken. From the corner of his eye, Yuri could see that Beka had clenched his hands into such tight fists that his knuckles had gone white. “You can't be- you... you're serious, aren't you?” He realized his hand was trembling and put down his water glass before he dropped it.

“As if I'd think something that fucked up was a joke. I bounced around for a while after that, France, the US, then Spain where I met Otabek. After a few years, I ended up set to St Agatha's. The Matron didn't like me, and she made sure to show it.”

“She didn't... touch you in any way like...?”

“Sexually? No. Just heavy handed with her punishments.”

“Well, that doesn't sound as bad-”

Yuri laughed bitterly. He pulled the back of his shirt up over his head and showed Victor the mass of scars etched into the pale skin there. There was a hollow kind of satisfaction in the sound of Victor's gasp. “She gave me those because I ran away from her other beatings and the cops brought me back.” He slipped his shirt back on and held out his hands, palms down. “Most of these are from work in the sweat shop. Overheated pressure valves, searing metal, things like that.”

“A-and those?” Victor pointed to the scars circling Yuri's wrists. He looked ill.

“These?” Yuri raised his hands so Victor could see the jagged raised flesh better. “No, Matron didn't give me these. The slum lord she sold me to kept me chained in his office. I got these from struggling against the cuffs while he fucked me.”

“ _Moy bog_ ,” Victor breathed. He rose to his feet, one hand pressed to his lips as if holding back the contents of his stomach. He paced to the window and back again. “Have you gone to the police with this?” he demanded.

“Well, Beka's a cop, but with the precinct on the take from St Agatha's and the slum lords to look the other way, there isn't much one man can do.”

“You're the one who found him after he... after what happened?”

Otabek nodded. “I transferred into the district as soon as I could so that I could try and change things. I had no idea at the time that Yuri had been sent to St Agatha's.”

“I... I just can't believe all this happened right under my nose.”

“You want more proof, go find a dickless slum lord named Miki and tell him I send my regards,” Yuri snapped.

“Yura,” Beka tried to pull Yuri back, but Yuri stood angrily.

“No. Fuck him if he doesn't want to admit that the organization he's been funding lets shit like this happen. He didn't notice that it used me and threw me away ten years ago and he won't own up to it now. Fuck you, Victor Nikiforov.” Yuri flipped him the finger and stormed towards the door. Otabek was up like a shot to bring him back.

“Is this really what's been going on?” Victor asked faintly, his eyes still locked on the scars circling Yuri's slim wrists. Yuuri sighed and nodded.

“You had so little direct contact with the foundation. It was easy to overlook amid all your other endeavors. But things have gone way too far. Yuri's story is even worse than I thought. And I doubt he's the only one. Something needs to be done. Immediately.”

Victor stared into Yuuri's eyes for a long moment, then nodded. “You're right. Yuri, Otabek, please come back over.” He waited until Beka brought a reluctant Yuri to where Victor stood. “I'm going down to St Agatha's personally tomorrow. If I find what I expect I will find, then I'll be taking action. This is going to stop, and what happened to you isn't going to happen to any other child under my protection.”

Katsuki and Otabek thanked him, but Yuri remained skeptical. He'd believe it when he saw it. Until then, Nikiforov was still just the rich moron who turned a blind eye.

 


	6. Unconquered

  
Whatever Yuri had been expecting, the whirlwind of activity that came the following week wasn't it. Victor did, indeed, visit St Agatha's. He walked into the girl's side of the sweat shop, saw two little girls sewing with bleeding fingers, and fired the matron on the spot. After he had Otabek arrest her, he went to the precinct to talk to the captain. In the next two days, all the children at St Agatha's were moved to other orphanages, the captain of Otabek's precinct was replaced, and half the cops were relocated. Money talked, but apparently Victor's money sang and danced.

He hired private detectives and bounty hunters to round up the slum lords, including Miki, making sure that Otabek didn't have the chance to do something that would ruin his career, like killing the man. Yuri had been panicking over the thought of testifying against Miki, but Victor made sure that he got life sentences without his crimes against Yuri needing to be brought to light. Otabek wanted Miki charged with them, as personal justice for Yuri, but as long as Miki was off the street, Yuri was relieved not to have to go through the ordeal of a trial.

The changes weren't just local. Victor fired the director of the IOF and then went site to site making personal inspections. More than half of the managers were fired, and several of them were jailed. Victor's flurry of activity made headlines, but since he'd started to clean house before the scandal of rampant pedophilia and abuse broke, he was seen as the hero who saved thousands of innocent children from unspeakable horrors.

Yuuri Katsuki and Otabek, who'd been the ones to set everything in motion, were never mentioned in the papers. They received no fame or accolades for having risked everything to set things right. It was the way they both preferred it. (Victor knew – he'd tried to bring them into the spot light and had been politely but firmly refused.)

Yuri could hardly believe that so much had changed in such a short amount of time. The monsters that had haunted his past and always seemed too huge to ever be defeated were all disposed of. There had been no bloodshed, no climactic last stands or revenge. Just a few good men doing their jobs and setting things right. The system took care of the rest.

Suddenly, Yuri could walk down any street without fearing he would be recognized or attacked. Otabek convinced him to go to the bank and become familiar with how to use his account. Encouraged him to buy frivolous luxuries like extra socks and scented conditioner. One day, Yuri had gone to withdraw cash to buy Indian take away for him and Beka, and saw that his balance had three too many zeroes behind it. He'd gone in, insisting that they correct the mistake, but the branch manager had informed him that it wasn't a mistake. A good looking silver haired man had signed for the wire transfer in person. Yuri had been tempted to throw the manager's computer against the wall. Fucking Nikiforov.

When he told Beka about the money, Otabek had suggested he do something meaningful with it, like return to school. Though Yuri had curled his lip at the idea at first, it had grown on him. Otabek printed off information about local colleges and trade schools. The future which had seemed so bleak such a short amount of time ago was suddenly bursting with possibilities.

The only thing that hadn't seemed to instantly resolve itself was his situation with Beka.

They'd fallen asleep together on the pull out the night of Yuri's confession, and it had developed into a habit of sorts. They stayed up late into the night talking and would eventually pass out curled together. In the morning, Otabek would wake to find Yuri clinging to him, his blonde hair fanned out around them both like a tangled halo. He would indulge himself for a few moments, stroking the silky strands lazily, watching the rise and fall of Yuri's chest in his sleep. Then he would force himself to get up and head to the shower. The cool showers had become a habit as well. Otabek had an iron will and firm control on his urges, but he was still a man. A man who spent his nights sleeping pressed up against the person he cared for and longed for more than any other.

Late one night as they picked at leftovers and ignored a sitcom on television, Otabek made a comment about his back aching.

“It's because you sleep on a couch every night, moron. You've got a perfectly good bed, you know.”

Otabek drew back, feeling as if he'd been struck. Neither of them had spoken of their sleeping arrangements before, but he'd assumed that Yuri was as satisfied with them as he was. Had he misread the situation? Did Yuri wish he would stop? “I, uh, guess you're right. I'll just...” he rose stiffly and turned towards the bedroom, wondering how he'd gotten things so wrong. A weight collided with his back and he turned, surprised to see Yuri behind him.

“What are you doing? Hurry up, I'm tired.” Yuri scowled and pushed him forward. Otabek complied easily, going into the bedroom with Yuri on his heels. To his surprise, Yuri collapsed onto the bed and stretched out like a cat. He rubbed his face against the pillow and then settled himself against it with a contented sigh. “You're an idiot for sleeping on the couch when you've got this in here.”

“Yeah, I know,” Otabek agreed with a soft smile. He stripped off his t shirt and slid into the bed next to Yuri. And just like that, a new routine was formed. They never talked about it, never tried to articulate why they were so drawn together and why neither of them felt inclined to stop it.

Eventually, there came a day when Yuri woke before Otabek. It was one of his days off, and when Yuri opened his eyes, Beka was sleeping deeply, his arms wrapped around Yuri tightly. Yuri was practically on top of Otabek, his head pillowed on Beka's chest. He let out a sleepy sigh and snuggled deeper into Beka's embrace. And then he noticed it. Hard. Large. Pressing insistently into Yuri's belly. He shivered and felt conflicting feelings of distaste and... something else. Something he hadn't felt in a long, long time.

Yuri held his breath as he tried to sort his thoughts. It wasn't arousal. Yuri's own cock showed exactly zero interest. But seeing Otabek's body stretched out in bed, feeling his warm skin and smelling the woodsy, spicy scent that was unique to him, there was _something_. Attraction, maybe? It was different than the attraction he'd felt to Beka when they'd first known each other years ago. More subtle, less urgent. It had little to do with the overwhelming surges of hormones that had wracked his teenage body back then. Instead, it was an appreciation of the man beside him. Longing to be near him physically, even if Yuri didn't necessarily feel the sexual side of it yet.

Yet?

He paused for a moment, wondering if it was possible that some day he might get those urges back. For so long, he'd been totally convinced they were gone forever. He was still fairly sure. But laying there with Otabek, he thought for the first time that there might be a chance.

Yuri could be obtuse at times. He could be slow on the uptake, unable to see what was right in front of him. But Yuri wasn't stupid. And over the course of his life, he'd learned to read people fairly well. It was a skill that had been vital to his life on the streets. Now, safe in Beka's home, he had less need of it, but the skill was still there. He'd finally pieced together, after the night of the confession, that Otabek had been telling him that they had felt the same for each other in Barcelona. Yuri wasn't sure if Beka was still inclined that way at first – after all, it had been years since then and he was sure Otabek had been with other partners – but he'd slowly come to the realization that Otabek _was_. And that Yuri was still the object of his attraction.

It might have been a frightening realization, if not for the fact that he trusted Beka. Despite the attraction Otabek obviously felt for him, Beka had never once acted on it. Not a single inappropriate touch, a lustful glance, a stray word. No matter what he felt, Beka wasn't willing to risk making Yuri feel uncomfortable in any way. The fact that Beka was willing to put aside his own desires for Yuri's sake only increased Yuri's desire to make Otabek happy.

Hesitantly, he scooted himself up Beka's body and pressed his hips forward. Beka groaned softly, his erection throbbing between them. A bolt of heat shot through Yuri's stomach. It still wasn't arousal, but it felt good. He kept his eyes closed in case Beka woke up, then rocked his hips forward again. With a soft growl, Beka rolled them so he was on top, his weight pressing Yuri into the mattress. Panic bubbled up inside him, sharp and bitter, and Yuri kept his eyes closed against it. _This is Beka_ , he told himself. He was safe. Beka wouldn't hurt him, no matter what happened next.

Slowly, Otabek blinked his eyes open. He realized he was on top of Yuri, his cock trapped between their bodies. “Fuck!” He scrambled back so quickly that he fell out of bed. When he looked back up over the mattress, Yuri was blinking at him, a smile curling his lips.

“Do we need to get you bed rails like a toddler?” he asked with a scoff. Otabek let out a sigh of relief and stood up. He rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed.

“Yeah, yeah. I'll just go-” he realized that his sleep shorts were tented and turned away sharply, “uh, shower.” His cheeks heated and he dashed for the bathroom. Yuri's laughter echoed behind him. The shower turned on, and Yuri realized that the warm feeling gripping his chest was... love. It was stupid. A childish notion. Ridiculous, pointless, probably fleeting. And yet there it was all the same. As if it had always been there, connecting the two of them together by some unseen and unbreakable thread. It wasn't anything like what Yuri had expected love to feel like. He thought love was obsessive and urgent and needy, like it was on television. But this was something different. It was soft and warm and selfless. He wanted to make Otabek happy, wanted to put Beka's needs ahead of his own the way Beka did for him.

He thought about giving Beka pleasure sexually. The idea didn't disgust him, at least. It felt... like nothing. Blank. But then thinking of how happy it would make Beka, how much he would enjoy it, there was something more. Something pleasant. He didn't think he would enjoy it, but maybe, with Beka, it wouldn't be that bad.

Otabek left the bathroom with a towel slung low on his hips and water dripping from his hair. Yuri's eyes followed one of the drops as it moved down his chest and and across the ridges of his stomach. It disappeared into the towel and Yuri jerked his eyes up, realizing he was staring at Beka's groin. He felt his face flush and he brushed past Otabek into the bathroom without a word.

In the shower, he looked down at his body critically. It was appealing enough, he supposed, aside from all the scars. He had a frustrating lack of body hair except for a small silvery blonde patch at the apex of his hips. Beka had plenty of body hair. Not a disgusting amount, but a scattering of fine black hairs across his chest and in a slim trail that ran from his belly button down to his groin. Yuri wondered how the his hair down there looked. He assumed it would be more than the sparse outcropping of his own. He wondered what Beka looked like erect. How he looked with his hand wrapped around his cock. Another of those now familiar bolts of heat went through him when he realized Otabek had been doing that in the exact spot Yuri stood only minutes before. What had Beka's face looked like as he climaxed?

Curiously, Yuri lifted his own limp penis. He still got erections from time to time, but they were usually painful, frustrating things that he ignored until they went away. He hadn't had one from actual arousal in... well it had been years. Was it broken or something? Or was it purely a psychological block? He tugged it a little, disliking the way the soft flesh felt between his fingers. He was half tempted to give up, but instead he closed his eyes and let his mind wander. Random images sifted behind his lids, flashing in and back out just as quickly. Then his brain conjured the image of Otabek stroking himself again. It was intense, uncomfortably overwhelming while Yuri was touching himself intimately, so he pushed it away. Instead, he thought of Beka doing other things. Standing in the kitchen without his shirt while sipping coffee. Sprawled out across the couch, rubbing Yuri's feet idly. Laying in bed that morning, holding Yuri close.

Yuri felt a tingle at the base of his spine and realized that he'd gotten hard. As the thoughts of Beka faded, so did the erection. But it had been there. The fact that he'd gotten it at all was some sort of miracle. Yuri made up his mind and got out of the shower quickly.

Beka was shirtless in the kitchen, sipping freshly brewed coffee just like the picture Yuri had created in the shower. His resolve hardened.

“Coffee if you want it,” Beka offered, gesturing to the pot. Yuri nodded, not taking his eyes off his target. He walked over, plucked Beka's mug from his hand, and set it on the counter behind them. Then he sank to his knees. “Wha-” Beka's shocked protest was choked off as Yuri pulled down the elastic waist of his shorts until his cock was out and then wrapped his lips around it. Otabek gasped, his mind going completely blank for a full moment as a scene right out of his dreams burst into life. Yuri closed his eyes and sucked, trying to keep his focus totally on the present so that bad memories wouldn't come creeping up to haunt him. Beka's cock stayed soft for half a second and then twitched to life. It thickened on Yuri's tongue, lengthening towards the back of his throat. Yuri sucked harder, wanting Beka to enjoy it, but hoping it would be over before he had time to panic. He bobbed his head forward, and the tip of Beka's cock dipped into his throat.

Instantly, Yuri gagged. His eyes went wide and it was as if all the thoughts he'd been holding back were released all at once. He felt as if he was choking. He couldn't breathe. In that moment, he honestly expected Otabek to wrap Yuri's hair around his fist and fuck his throat right through Yuri's retching. Instead, Beka gripped Yuri's shoulder and yanked him away. Yuri coughed, his eyes watering and stomach roiling.

“S-sorry, I'm sorry. Just give me a minute and I can keep going, I just need a min-”

“Yura, what are you _doing_?”

Yuri looked up and realized that there were tears falling freely down his face. He wiped them away furiously. “I'm- I want to do this. For you. I can do it.” He flinched a little when Otabek pulled his shorts back up, but leaned instinctively into him as Otabek sank to his knees on the floor.

“Yura, _janim,_ you don't need to... this isn't something I would ever ask of you.” He tipped Yur's chin up enough to look into his eyes. Yuri grimaced, hating the weakness he was showing. He scowled to try and cover his emotions.

“I know I don't need to. I wouldn't do it if I did,” he snapped.

“But... why? You obviously don't want this. Why are you pushing yourself?”

“You don't get to decide what I do and don't want, Otabek,” Yuri snarled. Otabek pulled back a little, not knowing what he'd done wrong. “Fuck! Don't look at me like that. I _want_ to do it. I want to because I know you want it and I want to give that to you. I just... I just need to sort my head out a little more than I thought. I can get past that shit. I can do this.”

“What about what I want, then?”

“Huh?”

“Do I get any say in this at all? You know that I would do almost anything for you, but there are places that I draw the line, Yura. This is one of them.”

“B-but... you want me.” Yuri blinked, totally uncomprehending of what Otabek was trying to say.

“I'm attracted to you, yes. But this isn't what I want. Do you really think I'd be able to enjoy anything like that knowing how it makes you feel? Are you even attracted to me? I don't see you as just a body to use for sexual gratification. I _care_ about you.”

“I...” Yuri's mouth opened, then shut again. The warmth in his chest had grown, battling away the fear and memories until all the felt was heat and light. “I know you care, Beka. I know how you see me, how you feel about me. That's why- why I do want you. I'm... in love with you.”

Otabek's eyes went wide. “ _Quday_...” He realized his fingers were digging into Yuri's shoulders and loosened them, still not believing what he'd heard. “What did you say?”

“Don't make me say it again,” Yuri griped, sounding so much like himself that Otabek was beginning to believe that this was real and not just a beautiful dream.

“You-”

“Yeah, I do. And I want to make you happy. And before you say it,” he held up his hand to stop the protest he could see forming on Otabek's lips, “I know that isn't the only way to make you happy. But it would make you happ _ier_.” He paused, biting his lip as he tried to figure out the right words. “I... I _am_ attracted to you. I think. Or, as much as I can be at this point in my life. I'm not scared of you, or disgusted at the thought of... doing stuff with you. Fuck, that doesn't sound right. But it means a lot, for me. I like... the way you look. The way you feel, the way you smell... So maybe I'll learn to like the other stuff too. I want to learn that, Beka.” He searched Otabek's eyes, trying to _will_ him to see the sincerity in his own.

“Yura...” Otabek was watching him carefully, gathering his thoughts as if working himself up to something. _Fuck, this is it,_ Yuri thought. _He's gonna turn me down. And why not? He shouldn't have to deal with all my shit. Maybe it's better this way. Maybe-_ “Can I kiss you?”

“W-what?”

“Please,” Otabek breathed, “let me kiss you.” Yuri gave a shaky nod once. Slowly, giving him plenty of time to change his mind or back away, Otabek leaned in. He kept his eyes on Yuri's until the very last moment, watching for any hesitation. When their lips were a hair's breadth apart, Yuri let his eyelids shutter and closed the distance. His lips pressed against Otabek's, soft and warm and firm. Beka's breath chuffed out lightly and Yuri breathed it in. He felt as if he was taking in part of the man himself somehow. Their lips moved together lightly at first, then one of them deepened the kiss and there was the faintest brush of tongue. Yuri parted his lips easily and met stroke for stroke. There was a soft moan and he realized that it had come from him, from how intoxicated he was by the taste of Beka, sweet and rich and _electrifying._

Heat flooded his belly and he felt a twitch in his cock. Emboldened, he put his hands on either side of Beka's face and slanted his head to kiss deeper. A little clumsily, he crawled into Otabek's lap, straddling him. The warmth of Otabek's body seeped into him, the hard planes of Beka's abs rubbing maddeningly against Yuri's groin. It twitched again, the burgeoning erection slowly coming to life in starts and spurts.

“Beka,” Yuri moaned. He pressed closer again, rocking his hips, then felt the length of Otabek's cock beneath his ass. He stilled, suddenly swamped with doubts. Otabek pulled back a little, giving them both space to breathe.

“I love you too, Yura. I love you so damn much.” He buried his face against Yuri's shoulder, holding him tightly.

“You do?” Yuri's hands stilled on Beka's shoulders, disbelief shooting through him. Otabek looked back up at Yuri's face, cradling the back of his neck gently and nodding.

“Yes. God, I think maybe I've always loved you. Knowing you feel that way about me too... it's more than I ever could have prayed for. You are-” he paused, leaning his forehead against Yuri's, “ _everything to me_.”

“I want to do this for you now more than ever. Let me make you feel as good as you've made me feel. I won't let... my past... deny you of anything. Especially this.”

“I don't want you to do it _for_ me, Yura. When we get there, I want it to be something we do together, because we both truly want it. There's no rush. I want you in my life for the _rest of my life_. I don't want to hurry you along and risk making a mistake. You're too precious to me.”

“Damnit, Beka, will you listen to me? I want- I want to _try_.” He pressed his half-hard cock against Otabek's stomach to try and punctuate his point. “I started this thinking it would totally be about you, but now that I'm here, there are these feelings... things I haven't felt in so long. And I want to see... where they go. Just let me give you pleasure and see how it feels. I promise I'll take my time. I'll be careful not to push myself too far. And I'll make it good for you.”

“I-” Otabek felt cornered. He wanted Yuri. Christ, he wanted Yuri. But it was far more important to him that Yuri feel safe and be comfortable. No matter how brave Yuri was feeling, Otabek didn't think that going down on him was a good idea. That might not be something Yuri could ever do. Still, if Yuri was experiencing the stirrings of true sexual arousal, it was important that he have the ability to explore it. Otabek didn't want to stifle him or risk taking away his chance at a healthy sex life by rejecting him. So what was he supposed to do? “Come with me,” he said suddenly, setting Yuri gently to the side and rising to his feet.

“What? Beka-”

“Come on. I think I've got an idea. Do you trust me?” He held his hand out to Yuri, who watched him for a moment before nodding.

“Of course I do.” He put his hand in Otabek's and let himself be led to the couch. Otabek sat him down and then turned to grab Yuri's shoes and jacket. Without a word, he slipped the jacket over Yuri's shoulders and then began to lace up his sneakers. “What the hell are you doing?” Yuri asked with more confusion than frustration. Otabek looked up at him with a smile.

“I want you to feel totally secure and in control. You could be up and out of here in a split second. The door is right there, and you know I would never try to stop you if you needed to leave.”

“I'm not going to just run off-”

“Just listen to me, Yura. This is important.” Otabek stared at Yuri unblinkingly until he nodded his agreement.

“Fine,” he huffed.

“I'm not going to hold onto you at all. You'll be able to push me back at any point. And at any time, if you feel even a little uncomfortable, all you have to do is say so and I'll stop. Alright?”

“Yeah, I got it. Jesus, you make it sound like you're going to do a science experiment on me or something.”

“Well, it _is_ an experiment of sorts. I'm going to see if I can get you off with my mouth.” He looked up from where he was kneeling between Yuri's legs, color high in his cheeks.

“You're going to- you mean _you_ \- Beka, that's not...” Yuri blushed brighter than Otabek, the flush spreading up his neck to the tips of his ears.

“We don't have to. I don't want to make you feel pressured into anything. But I think this is a good place to start, and I... _want_ this.” The hunger in his eyes made Yuri swallow hard. Otabek looked ravenous for him. Suddenly, the idea appealed to him more than he ever thought possible.

“Okay,” he agreed.

“You're sure?”

“I said yes, didn't I? Just get on with it,” he griped. But his voice didn't match the malice of his words, so Otabek only smiled.

“One more thing,” Otabek started. Yuri rolled his eyes and huffed impatiently. “Are you okay if I touch myself... during?”

Yuri's eyes went wide. “You want to- I mean, doing this will get you...” He trailed off, gesturing vaguely.

 _“Yes_ ,” Otabek breathed. And suddenly the heat was back, stronger than before. Thinking of Beka touching himself while he used his mouth on Yuri was more erotic than he ever could have dreamed.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. Do it.” He leaned back against the couch, unsure how to start. Otabek did it for him, kissing the inside of his thigh tenderly before shimmying Yuri's pants down over his hips. A sudden shot of unease had deflated him a little, but then Beka's mouth was hovering just above it and the twitch was back.

“Remember what I said,” Otabek whispered, his breath blowing warm across Yuri's cock with maddening heat, “all you have to do is say stop and I'll stop immediately. Alright?”

“A-alright.” Yuri pressed his hands on the couch cushions, not certain what he should do with them. Otabek noticed and gently lifted one to put on his head. Yuri's fingers twined in Beka's hair, fisting it lightly. He really was fully in control. When he pressed down a little, Beka's mouth dropped until it was pressed against his cock. Yuri's breath hissed out between his teeth, the sensation nearly overwhelming him. Slowly, Otabek opened his lips and worked the tip of Yuri's cock between them. His tongue swirled around the crown and then rubbed lightly beneath it. “Fuuuck-” Yuri's hips snapped upwards, reacting to the sensation, but trying to avoid it or seeking more he wasn't sure.

Otabek didn't fight him at all, he just relaxed his jaw and let Yuri move him however he wanted. When Yuri realized that he had more than half his prick shoved in Beka's mouth, and that when it got fully hard – which it was on it's way to doing – it would be edging into his throat, he planted his hips back down. Despite the fact that Otabek seemed content to let Yuri use him any way he liked, Yuri couldn't stand the thought of choking the man he cared about. He put light pressure on the back of Beka's head, bobbing it up and down a little.

There was a rustling sound, and Yuri realized that Otabek had pushed his shorts out of the way and was stroking himself. He couldn't see it clearly, but just the idea of it was enough to make Yuri's cock spring the rest of the way to life. Otabek moaned around the length of him, clearly able to feel how Yuri was being affected. Yuri increased the pressure on Beka's head more, so that Otabek was taking almost the entire length of him into his mouth before pulling off. Otabek hollowed his cheeks, sucking while he moved. His tongue continued to dance over Yuri's cock. A soft slapping sound filled the otherwise quiet room, Otabek's fist moving over himself slowly at first and then with increasing speed as he felt Yuri jerk on his tongue.

“Beka...” Yuri let his head fall back for a moment as he gave himself over to the sensations, then snapped it back up. He didn't want to miss a single moment of this. Wanted to see everything, etch every moment of it into his memory forever. He shifted his upper body slightly to the side so that he could see Beka stroking himself. A low moan escaped his throat.

The pleasure and pressure were building inside him, growing and growing until he thought he would fly apart from it. He felt heavy, his skin stretched too tightly over him. It was almost too much. For a moment, something inside him went cold. It was _wrong._ Nothing sex related was supposed to feel good. It was all pain and anger and take take take... The urge to flee rose up in him so strongly that he felt himself press his feet to the floor in preparation. Somehow, just the feel of that was enough to ground him a little. His shoes pressed to the carpet. Beka had been right. He could get away at any moment. He wasn't being forced to do anything. This felt good because Beka wanted to give him pleasure. He wasn't taking. He was performing a selfless act because he _loved_ Yuri.

Once again, calmness overtook him, and just like that, he felt himself reaching the breaking point. “B-Beka- I'm going to-” His hand tightened in Otabek's hair, but didn't try and move it. Otabek took it on himself to take Yuri deep into his throat and swallow around him. Yuri cried out, his orgasm slamming into him like a freight train. The sound of it alone was enough to make Otabek follow him. He tensed and his toes curled as his release began to spill. After he sucked Yuri lightly through the aftershocks, he eased off and sat up. Yuri looked down at him, half dazed.

Otabek had swallowed his come. He'd taken Yuri seed down his throat, into his stomach- The room spun sickeningly as the memory of all the times he'd been forced to swallow another man's release, had it shot down his throat against his will, rose up and gripped him. He barely had time to lean to the side before he vomited on the floor.

“ _Qudayi!_ Yura! Yura, are you okay?” He pulled Yuri's hair back from his face so it wouldn't get dirty as Yuri's stomach heaved again. He hadn't eaten since the night before, so it was mostly bile, bitter and heavy on his tongue.

“I'm sorry, I'm s-sorry,” Yuri gasped, trying to make his stomach stop cramping.

“No, no, god, don't apologize, Yura. Did I hurt you? Did I do something wrong?”

“I'm fine... I just need to-”

“Let me,” Otabek urged. He jumped to his feet, handing Yuri a tissue to blow his nose and then getting him a glass of water. As Yuri rinsed his mouth, Otabek got towels and cleaned the floor.

“You don't have to- I can do that.” Yuri felt so fucking ashamed. Otabek had done something so wonderful for him, and not only had Yuri puked, but now Beka was taking care of him and cleaning it up.

“No, it's fine. Just relax and catch your breath. I'll have this up in a moment.” True to his word, Otabek was finished a minute later, depositing of the soiled towels in the garbage and then returning to perch lightly on the edge of the couch. “Are you alright?”

“I'm fine.” Yuri closed his eyes and sighed. “It wasn't anything you did. Not your fault. I just...” He stopped, sighing again.

“Can I hold you while we talk, or would you like some space?”

Yuri answered by pushing Otabek further on the couch and crawling into his lap. He settled himself against Beka's chest and wrapped Beka's arms around him. He felt totally sheltered. “Do you want to tell me what happened?” Otabek asked after they'd been quiet for a moment.

“It was going so well. Like, really fucking well. I've never felt anything like that. And watching you... touch yourself, get pleasure, while you were doing it... _blyad,_ Beka, that was amazing. I had a moment, just one moment where I thought it was too much, but then it was gone and I just wanted- I wanted you to make me come, and then I _did_ and it was... it was fan-fucking-tastic! It was incredible. And when I looked down you had _swallowed_.” He shuddered.

“You... you didn't want me to?”

“I mean, it felt amazing. But you- you just took it. Like you wanted it.”

“I _did._ ”

“But it's disgusting! It chokes you and sticks on your tongue and-” he stopped, trembling violently. Otabek made soothing little humming noises and rubbed Yuri's back gently.

“If it bothers you, I won't do it again. But it's not disgusting to me. I want to do it. I know it feels good for you, and I want to taste you. To take in the release that I gave you.”

Yuri pulled back enough that he could see Otabek's face. “You really... you really _enjoyed_ that?”

“I did. A little too much, perhaps. I thought I was going to make a mess on the couch.” He smirked and Yuri cracked a grin.

“Maybe... maybe it's not that bad then. I'll work on it.”

“Whatever you want, Yura. It's up to you. But-” Otabek paused, not wanting to push too much too fast.

“But what?”

“I just think that maybe you should try talking to someone or something.”

“What do you mean? I'm talking to you, aren't I?”

“I mean a professional. Someone trained to deal with this kind of thing. Someone who can help.”

“You mean a shrink?” The incredulity in Yuri's voice was clear. “I'm not going to whine to some stranger about my problems and have him fuck with my head. That shit's not for people like us, Beka.”

Otabek shrugged a little. “It helped me,” he admitted. Yuri gaped.

“You saw a shrink?”

“All cadets have to pass a psyche evaluation. After I had mine, I went back.”

“But... why? You're so strong.”

“It's not a matter of strength. I had a lot of misplaced aggression. I was confused about who I was. There were times when I was conflicted, torn up with guilt but unable to change... and it helped me work through some of that.”

“W-what did you even talk about?”

“I talked a lot about you.” He smiled a little when Yuri started. “About missing you, being worried about you, feeling like shit because of how much I wanted you. And feeling like something was wrong with me because I was attracted to both men and women. About getting over my parent's deaths. All the things that had piled up until I felt stifled under the weight of them.”

“And it helped?”

“Just letting them out helped a lot. The psychologist also gave me some good coping mechanisms for anger and guilt. And information, too. About how there were other people like me, people who had gone through similar issues and felt the way I did. Knowing I wasn't alone, even if I never met any of those people, helped too.”

“I guess that makes sense.”

“I'm not going to push you, Yura. It's totally your decision. I just want you to know that it's an option. It might help.”

“Okay, Beka. I'll think about it,” Yuri promised. Otabek kissed the top of his head in thanks.

 


	7. Unconquerable

  
Yuri did try seeing a therapist. Three different ones, in fact. But none of them _fit_. Yuri couldn't open up, never felt comfortable enough to reveal much beyond the basics. The second one – a _man_ in his _forties_ – had stormed out in tears after Yuri verbally flayed him for pushing too much. After that, Yuri decided to take what he'd managed to learn from them and work through his issues on his own. Between that, the internet access he had on the phone Otabek had gotten him, and being able to talk to Beka about anything, he was slowly limping along.

Otabek had been right about information helping. About knowing he wasn't alone. He read dozens of articles about child abuse and sexual trauma. There were support groups even. Yuri never joined, but he lingered on the fringes, content just to know that it wasn't _him_. He wasn't the only one, he wasn't somehow deserving of the things that had been done to him. There were monsters everywhere in the world. Yuri just happened to have met several of them.

As he grew in confidence and understanding, he felt brave enough to branch out in his sexual exploration with Beka. They'd repeated their performance from that morning several times, slowly changing things to increase the intensity. Yuri had Beka touch him with his free hand, caress his skin, grip his hips. He did it without his shoes, and eventually without any clothes at all. Then he wanted to touch Beka. One night in bed, they laid with their bodies pressed together. When Yuri had rubbed his erection against Beka's, Otabek had taken both of their cocks in his hand and stroked them together. The sensation of Beka's skin hot and turgid against his own had made Yuri come hard enough to see stars.

In time, Yuri wanted to try going down on Otabek again. He went slowly, bolstered by his newfound confidence and his total trust in Beka. It was awkward for parts, his starts and stops too frequent to make for a smooth ride, but eventually he managed to bring Otabek to orgasm. He didn't try and finish Beka with his mouth, instead pulling away at the last moment and taking him through his orgasm with his hand – for which Otabek was grateful. Otabek knew how big of an issue that was for Yuri, and he didn't want him to take things too far too fast.

One night, after they had been kissing in bed, touching and stroking slowly until they were both hard and aching, Otabek asked Yuri if he wanted to have sex. Yuri had been startled at first, until Beka clarified that he would be the bottom. Then Yuri was even more confused. Why would Beka want him to... to do that to him? It wouldn't feel good, it would hurt, and he would hate it, and Yuri would-

Otabek stopped him in the middle of his panicked rant. “It _won't_ hurt if you take your time. It _will_ feel good. Sex doesn't have to be a bad thing. Safe, consensual sex is wonderful. I want to share that with you, when you're ready.”

“I don't want to hurt you,” Yuri whispered.

“You won't. We'll take it slow, and we'll _both_ enjoy it.”

“Th-then you show me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Show me it doesn't have to hurt. Prove it to me.”

“Yura, I promise you-”

“No! I can't... I don't have anything else to compare it to. And I can't just d-do what...” he shook his head, eyes squeezed shut. “I need you to show me.”

“Yura...”

“I mean it, Beka. I want you to. Please.” He pulled back, staring into Otabek's eyes until he finally nodded a little.

“Okay, _janim_ , someday.” Beka cuddled Yuri close, resting his chin on Yuri's head.

“You don't want to try it now?”

“Do you really think you're ready for that now?” It was a rhetorical question, but after a moment, Yuri shook his head.

“I guess not.”

“So we'll wait then. No rush, Yura. No hurry. Let's take our time.”

And they did. They kept themselves satisfied in other ways, sharing their bodies within the boundaries of Yuri's comfort zone. It was good, it was so very satisfying, and yet... Yuri wanted more. He wanted what Beka had talked about, the closeness and intimacy of joining themselves together. He brought it up again, and then a third time before Beka finally felt comfortable enough to try.

They took a bath together, Beka rubbing Yuri's shoulders in the warm water, repeating the now familiar speech about Yuri being in charge, that they would stop at any time if he was uncomfortable. Yuri just nodded along. He knew those things. More than that, he _believed_ them. Otabek had never once hurt him. Had never once pushed him too far. There was a kind of safety in that, a security in the knowledge that no matter how far things went or what they did, all it would take was a hint of discomfort from Yuri and they would stop for as long as he needed.

When they moved to the bed, Yuri was relaxed, and yet his body was thrumming with anticipation. It was something completely foreign to him, the idea that sex like that could be pleasurable. He felt as if Otabek was leading him into the unknown, but he had implicit trust in his guide. They kissed, caressing and teasing and touching until Yuri was a writhing mess, nearly desperate with his need for more.

Otabek was heavy handed with the lubricant, dripping it over both of them so that they were sloppy and slick. Each time his hand brushed over Yuri's cock, he strained towards the contact, back arching. Beka rubbed him gently from the base of his shaft, down between his legs, to the cleft of his ass. It felt good, every touch making his nerve endings tingle with pleasure. There was a light pressure, and then the tip of Otabek's finger slipped inside him. Yuri went still, adjusting to the sickeningly familiar and yet totally foreign sensation. When Otabek stroked him with his other hand, Yuri felt his body clench in pleasure. The intrusion in his body amplified the sensation. Slowly, carefully, Beka eased more of his finger inside, then back out. Chills broke out over Yuri's body. Otabek kissed him, stroking his tongue in Yuri's mouth in rhythm with the movements of his hand.

When Yuri relaxed fully, a second finger joined the first one. It was jarring, nearly overwhelming, but Yuri adjusted to it quickly. Otabek's hand on his cock was driving him to distraction, making him wild with the pleasure of it. The fullness in him increased again, and just when it would have started to become uncomfortable, Otabek pressed his fingers upward. It only took a moment of probing before he found the sensitive spot in Yuri and rubbed it lightly. Yuri shouted and nearly arched off the bed. Before Otabek could withdraw, Yuri gripped his wrist.

“Don't stop,” he breathed. It was an overwhelming feeling, almost too sensitive, the pressure incredibly great, but Beka kept his touch soft and allowed Yuri to acclimate to the sensation. It was a maddening combination. Yuri found his hips rocking up to Otabek's fingers, seeking more of that magic touch. He could have come just from that, but he wanted more. He wanted it all. “I'm ready, Beka. Please.”

Otabek continued stroking him for another minute, pushing him right to the brink of release before finally easing back. He kissed Yuri deeply, then withdrew his fingers. Before Yuri's muscles could contract, he pressed the tip of his cock forward. There was a burst of sensation, stretching, fiery heat, pleasure and the smallest bite of pain twined together, and then Otabek's cock had sunk in deep enough to brush against _that_ spot. Yuri's whole body clenched. Above him, Beka hissed in a breath. He didn't move.

For the entirety of that moment, Yuri actually wondered if his body was going to fly apart. There were too many sensations to categorize them all, too much pleasure snaking its way through his veins like a drug. He felt full, immensely so, and for the first time, there was no pain or shame or _anything_ negative accompanying that feeling. It was just Beka and his body and the way it felt to have his hand stroking over Yuri's twitching cock. “More,” he whispered weakly, “please.”

Otabek pulled back, then thrust forward carefully. A sharp _zing_ of pleasure shot up Yuri's spine. He realized his fingers were digging into Beka's shoulder, blunt nails making crescent moon indentations in the tanned skin. He tried to loosen them, but Beka thrust again and he found himself clutching tighter. This wasn't like anything that had come before. This was something beautiful and intimate and so fucking erotic that Yuri had to bite his lip to keep from screaming. Otabek was so careful with him, canting his hips on each ingress to hit that same spot over and over until Yuri was begging, incoherently pleading with him for _more, god please more_ , Russian expletives slipping among the English they both usually used. Yuri asked for it harder, deeper, faster, over and over until Beka was fucking him with carefully measured force, driving into him at just the right angle and stroking his cock quick and tight as he pushed and pushed and pushed and then _fuck fuck fuck_ his whole body felt like it was on _fire_ from the pleasure. It stole his breath and pulled Beka's name from his lips in a scream, contracting tighter and tighter and then exploding outward. Yuri was barely coherent enough to hear Beka's own shout of pleasure as he followed Yuri into bliss.

By the time Yuri had come down from his high, Beka had shifted away slightly and was stroking Yuri's hair. Their limbs were still entwined, sweat clinging to their skin. Yuri hummed in delight. Beka had been right. He'd known, somewhere in a more logical part of his mind, that Beka would be right. There was no way Otabek would have agreed to fuck him if he didn't think Yuri would enjoy it. But he'd had no idea it would be like _that_.

“Love?” Beka asked softly.

“Hmm?” Yuri didn't even open his eyes, still basking in the afterglow.

“How are you feeling?”

“Good,” he breathed. “Really fucking good.”

“Sore anywhere?”

“I might've given myself a sore throat from screaming in pleasure, and my hips feel a little loose, but otherwise I'm great. You?”

Otabek chuckled. “I'm fantastic. How could I not be?”

“I could say the same. I never would have guessed, not in a million years. I had no clue it could be like that.”

“I'm glad you enjoyed it.”

“Enjoyed it? That's the understatement of the decade. We're doing that again,” he said firmly. Otabek smiled.

“Whatever you say, _janim._ You're the boss.”

“Damn right,” Yuri snorted. Beka kissed him, a smile still curling his lips. They fell asleep without even bothering to clean up, content to wait to gripe about dirty sheets till the morning.

  
Xoxoxoxox

  
It was as if a damn had broken in Yuri. Sex had been the last barrier in his mind, the last thing holding him back. Now that they'd cleared that hurdle with ease, he wanted _everything_. When he wasn't at class or working his part time job – which Beka insisted he didn't need, but Yuri insisted on keeping – he was looking up new sexual adventures for them to go on. Every few weeks a sex toy would arrive in the mail and neither man would be able to walk straight in the morning.

After the astounding success of being on the bottom, Yuri finally tried being on top. It was exhilarating at first, the idea of it heady and exciting, but in the act, Yuri found that he disliked it. It felt _wrong_ somehow, the pleasure intense, but awkward and hollow. He didn't like having Beka pinned to the bed, didn't like moving over him, using his body that way. For whatever reason, the roll reversal brought him back to the memories of what had been done to him in jagged little waves. When he came, a chill had gone up his spine along with the pleasure, and even though he knew Beka had enjoyed it, he couldn't get past the distaste for the act.

They tried it again a few times, and Yuri was eventually able to separate what he was doing to Otabek from what he'd gone through, but he never really _liked_ it.

At the other end of the spectrum, he'd discovered that he intensely enjoyed being submissive in bed. Whether they were stroking each other, or giving oral pleasure, or Beka was fucking him, Yuri thrilled with the sense of Otabek dominating him. It had taken time, a long time, for Otabek to become comfortable even doing the lightest of bondage or rough play, but Yuri was insistent. And once they started, he couldn't get enough. There were some lines that neither of them could cross, neither of them wanted to even try, but Yuri pushed his boundaries in other areas. He liked Otabek tangling his wrists together in a shirt or a scarf – never metal – but enough for him to feel vaguely trapped. He loved Otabek gripping his hair his his big fist, guiding his head or pulling it back as he fucked Yuri from behind. He throbbed with pleasure at the feel of Beka's hand on his throat, of hearing dirty words whispered in his ear.

He pushed further, coming up with a safe word for them and telling Otabek not to stop unless he said it. He wanted to be able to say 'no' and have Beka keep going, keep forcing pleasure on him, knowing that all the while _he_ held the trump card. That all he had to do was say that safeword, and it would come to an immediate halt. It was entirely in his hands. He was drunk on the thrill of control, taking back what had been stolen from him. Every orgasm he had with Otabek's cock buried inside him, every climax wrung from him while he was tied up and physically vulnerable, felt like a victory. A reclamation. The biggest _fuck you_ to everyone who'd ever hurt him, because he was just perverse enough to enjoy the hell out of that.

Yuri was _powerful_. He was _strong_. He was _unbreakable_. He handed his body over to Otabek without reserve because it was his to give. Because Beka had earned that trust. Because what they did, they did out of love and mutual desire. Otabek joked that it was 'topping from the bottom,' but to Yuri it was absolute freedom. He'd had nearly everything stripped away from him and he'd taken it all back, piece by piece.

He was still composed of jagged edges, bits that didn't fit together quite right, and more ire than a man twice his size had any right to, but he was whole. He had his life back, the man he loved, and a future that was filled with endless possibilities. He smiled as he recalled a dream he'd had once, years before. In another, made up world, where things had somehow still ended up the same. _Maybe,_ he thought as he shifted closer to Otabek and his eyes drifted shut, _I'll learn how to ice skate._


	8. Victor's Story

  
Victor Nikiforov was a man that men wanted to be and women wanted to be with. He was practically a celebrity, for all that he'd never done any singing or acting or even those ridiculous reality shows that were so popular. Between his good looks, natural charisma, and talent for making money, he had it all. Or so everyone thought.

  
The truth was, Victor had been lonely. He'd had a lonely childhood, a lonely adolescence, and he'd grown into a lonely adult. He had a dog, which helped, and plenty of people around him, which sometimes made it worse, and he kept himself busy, which he'd always thought was almost as good. Victor Nikiforov was a success. Wasn't that what everyone wanted? But still, life and love had eluded him.

He'd spent years taking over various corporations, acquiring businesses like they were spare spoons, amassing a multi-million dollar conglomerate that dominated the business world. He funded plenty of charitable organizations, too, including the International Orphan's Foundation, which he'd been happy to give plenty of money to in a kind of tribute to his own status as an orphan. He'd also been happy to hand control of the organization over to someone else. He spoke in a commercial or two, smiled for pictures, and then left it to be run by others. Wasn't that what he paid them for?

All of that had come crashing down around his head the day a slim Japanese man had cornered him on his way out of his office. Yuuri Katsuki, he'd introduced himself. A social worker, assigned to one of the orphanages Victor funded. Did he have a moment to spare to talk about the results of Yuuri's investigation?

No, Victor didn't. He was on his way to a dinner meeting with the board of directors of a company he was about to acquire. He gave Mr Katsuki the name of the man who handled the IOF, tuned out his protests, and got into the car waiting for him without even having really looked at the man. He'd thought that was the end of it.

How wrong he'd been.

The next time Yuuri had stopped him, it had been in the elevator on his way up to his office. Yuuri had been waiting since five that morning for his chance. The icy determination in his eyes had sent no small amount of trepidation through Victor. He'd been accosted by overly zealous fans before. But Yuuri didn't lay a hand on him. He pulled the emergency stop button for the elevator and informed Victor that he _would_ listen to him. And if he was any kind of a man at all, he would _act._

The story he'd told was shocking, to say the least. Allegations of abuse in one of the local orphanages. A sweat shop, of all things. A boy who'd had suspicious burns. A school room full of elementary primers no one ever wrote in. Victor didn't want to believe it. He trusted the man who handled the IOF. They'd known each other for years. If something that bad was going on, then he would know about it, and Victor couldn't believe that he would turn a blind eye to such atrocities.

Despite that, he respected Yuuri Katsuki's dedication to his job, his determination to see those children safe. And on top of that, the man was absolutely breathtaking. So when he called Victor again (after Victor had given him his personal number when they finally got off the elevator), Victor asked Yuuri to dinner to discuss things. It wasn't a _date_ ; you didn't discuss potential child abuse and police cover up on a date, but it was _something_.

Victor listened to Yuuri tell him that there was a cop from the local precinct willing to corroborate the story – a man who'd been in the orphanage himself at one point – and another boy who'd suffered some worse fate. Despite how earnest Yuuri was (and how dashing he looked in his suit, never mind the hideous tie) Victor was still reluctant to believe the full extent of it. Perhaps, he'd begun to consider, there was something going on. Some small mistakes being made, things being done that Victor wouldn't approve of. He agreed to meet with the men Yuuri had mentioned and make his decision then.

Outside the restaurant, he'd asked Yuuri on a date. A _real_ date. And been absolutely delighted when the forceful, powerhouse of a man he'd been introduced to suddenly became a blushing ball of nerves. It was _adorable_. Yuuri had put him off, rushed away, and taken Victor's heart along with him.

Victor had gone into the meeting with the boys from St Agatha's with a sense of excitement totally inappropriate for the seriousness of the situation. It wasn't that he wasn't concerned about the allegations, or that he didn't think they deserved his whole focus. But he couldn't stop thinking of ways to make Yuuri blush again. Of how Yuuri would react to a kiss, to a caress, to a compliment whispered into his ear.

Those thoughts had been totally wiped from his mind almost as soon as the younger Yuri had started talking. His story, told in brutally graphic bursts, was horrifying. The sight of his scars turned Victor's stomach. It was impossible to doubt him, his words conveyed in the honest disgust of a child forced to pleasure a grown man. The barbarity of his assaults chilled Victor. Even though he'd already ordered secondary investigations at the orphanages, he decided to conduct his own. Soon, as soon as possible. The very next day. He wouldn't, _couldn't_ allow this to continue. The fact that it had already been happening, and under Victor's watch, was enough to bring tears to his eyes.

He held them back until the other three men left. Once Yuuri had closed the door behind him, Victor let them fall, regret rising up choke him. He felt responsible. He was the one who'd funded that god-awful sweat shop. He'd given those people the means to exploit dozens of children. Had paid a salary to men abusing their helpless charges. Perhaps worse, Yuri Plisetsky wasn't just some faceless child. Victor had _met_ him, more than once. They'd talked, Victor had told him stupid jokes in an attempt to make the boy laugh as they filmed the commercial. He should have been able to see it. He should have somehow known. He should have helped that little boy, so full of spit and fire that was just a cover for his fear of the future and the pain that he carried with him.

It was as if Victor had been going through his whole life with his eyes veiled, but now the veil was gone. He could see clearly for the first time, and what he saw was a world full of tragedy that he'd enabled with his complacency. Never again. Never again would he be blind to the suffering of those around him, to the well being of those under his care. That included every single child in the IOF around the world.

The next days were a whirlwind of activity. He saw the proof of Yuri's story with his own eyes, walking in on the sweat shop when it was in full swing. Even once that vile Matron was arrested and the children were safe, it wasn't enough. He worked closely with Yuuri, and though he still felt a thrill in his belly at the sight of those wide brown eyes, it was pushed aside for more pressing matters. They spent long days together, weeding out corruption and cruelty.

“How could I have let this happen?” he asked quietly one night while they looked over the names and ages of children who needed to be relocated to safer homes. He fisted his hands in his hair and then scrubbed them down his face tiredly.

“You... you didn't know,” Yuuri tried to comfort him. He reached out a hesitant hand and patted Victor's shoulder.

“I _should_ have known. Ignorance is no excuse! I just can't... _Blyad,_ what the hell have I been _doing_ with my life?”

“You're turning it around, Victor. That's all you can do now. You're working to right all these wrongs. That has to be enough.”

“It's not. I need to... to make it right, but this can't just be fixed. People can't be put back together like puzzle pieces. I know that better than anyone. All those lives... broken apart.” He shook his head, and when his eyes opened again, they were blazing with determination. “Yuri is never going to want for anything as long as he lives. Otabek, too, is going to get everything he wants from life. And you, Yuuri. You're the only reason I even found out about this mess in the first place. Without you, I might have just let it go on endlessly. I'll never be able to thank you enough for that. Anything that it's in my power to give you is yours.”

Yuuri sighed and pushed his glasses up on his head so he could look Victor in the eye with nothing between them. “I don't expect any thanks, and I don't need any kind of reward for doing my job. The only thing I want from you is for you to be the man I know you are. A man who won't stand for injustice, who will protect those weaker than himself.” Their gazes held, emotion arcing between them like electricity.

“Yuuri,” Victor breathed softly. “I've got a lot of work ahead of me. I'll be traveling around the world in the coming months trying to set this right. But when I get back, I'm going to ask you on a date again. And when I do, I hope you'll say yes.”

Yuuri smiled a little shyly, brushing Victor's hair from his eyes. “You'll just have to ask me and see.”

Three months later, after Victor had visited each facility in the IOF individually and finally felt like things were up to his – admittedly fastidious – standards, he returned to Japan. With no small amount of trepidation, he called Yuuri. The grin on his face when his crush agreed to a date was wide enough to make his cheeks ache.

From that night on, they were inseparable. Yuuri's quiet determination and desire to see the best in the world was a perfect fit for Victor's easy exuberance and newfound zest for life. They were a match in every way, as if they were two pieces of the same whole. Completed by one another.

They stayed in contact with Yuri and Otabek, with Victor glad to offer Yuri a job working in the IOF when he graduated college the following spring. Of course Yuri had dismissed the offer and insulted Victor's manhood, fashion sense, and hair, but Otabek had only smiled and said Yuri would consider it.

When they'd been together just over a year, Victor and Yuuri flew to Barcelona together. The trip had originally been intended as a business one, to check on the boy's home there, but they stayed on for a few days after to see the sights. In front of a cathedral, with a chorus of singers making sweet music and fairy lights creating a soft glow around them, Yuuri slid a golden ring on Victor's finger and asked Victor to marry him.

As if Victor could have said no.

As if his whole world didn't revolve around Yuuri, the man who'd given him life and love and a purpose. The man who'd stolen his heart completely, and given Victor his own in return. He wanted nothing more than to have Yuuri promise to spend the rest of his life with him. They kissed, they cried, and when they got home, they started planning a wedding.

(A wedding Yuri would glower and sneer through, protesting the uncomfortable tuxedo, the stupidity of marriage, and his distaste for the men getting married. A wedding that would inspire Otabek to make his own trip to the jewelers and later propose to Yuri, who would cry, scowl at him, and then demand they get married as soon as possible. And so they did.)


End file.
